


Life of the Damned

by Velace



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Eventual Relationships, F/F, Gratuitous Smut, Minor Violence, multiple character deaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:09:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 120,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1469119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velace/pseuds/Velace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan is not the Savior her son expected her to be, siding with the Evil Queen from the start and keeping secrets from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Emma doesn't understand why she bothers with the birthday tradition to make a wish, as though there were a single wish that would have any relevance to her life, or half-life, as some would call it. She stopped hoping for any sort of companionship at least eight years ago, knowing that connecting with anyone was meaningless when they would all eventually die and she would be left alone once more.

Being a part of her life is something she wouldn't wish on anyone and one heartbreak had devastated her, she could only imagine what a repeat occurrence would do to her now, now that she possesses the strength to tear the world asunder and an entire army of people just like her, just as capable of wreaking the sort of destruction that would no doubt bring about the Armageddon that humans liked to glorify on a daily basis.

It was one thing to kill the person who hurt you, quite another to take it out on an unassuming, mostly undeserving world.

Not that she had meant to kill him but well, fledglings tend to be rather angry when they're first turned and she hadn't yet mastered her newfound powers, nor the control needed to resist the urges that had seemed insatiable then. There had been something poisonous about his blood though because she was sick for weeks afterwards, she hadn't known that was even possible but it was enough, enough to convince her that it was better to learn control than give in to the animalistic desire for blood and death.

Her mistress had been proud, gloating over how quickly her little pet learned, how talented and skilled she must be in order to tame the wildest of the new stock. Emma sometimes wonders what the woman would feel now, knowing she brought about her own demise by turning Emma into one of them.

Orphans were unpredictable changes, either becoming one of the greatest or foulest of the night's creatures depending on the life they had endured. Emma's own resulted in a fair amount of unresolved anger, yet it was responsible for the strength her mistress had been drawn to, the sole reason she became a recipient of the Curse.

She owed Neal in the strangest of ways.

Had she not gotten sick after draining him, she would have been put down because, at the time, the Council had considered her feral, a risk to their centuries of having remained undetected, thought of as nothing more than mythical beings, an impossibility in a world intent on proving that fantasy often coincides with reality.

But because of the long six months she spent recovering, purging the filthy toxin from her body and surviving an unimaginable amount of blood loss in the process, she had been deemed worthy of a chance and for seven years, she had proven herself repeatedly. That is why, after ending her maker's reign in Boston, the Council had assigned the community to her and she became the youngest mistress among their kind.

As much as her life had changed since her Awakening, it wasn't all that different from being human.

There were exceptions, of course. Such as the fact she no longer ate food, could only travel at night and had a sometimes-endless slew of visitors knocking on her door at what most people would consider asinine hours. She still worked her job as a bounty hunter, still occasionally entertained the pointless activity that is dating, even though anyone she found remotely interesting ended up as one of her meals, only to be discarded with their memory wiped a few hours later.

Which brings her back to the cupcake sitting on her counter, reminding her of how meaningless this was as she would live for hundreds, if not thousands of years, repeating this tedious tradition and for what, to pretend for a few minutes that everything is as it was. Rolling her eyes, she snatches it up but before she can throw it away as she planned, there's an unfamiliar knock at her door.

She glances to the man seated on her couch, an insignificant human underling tasked with performing duties that were considered beneath her and she waves him off when he attempts to stand, tossing the cupcake to him as she rounds the counter and moves to find out who her unexpected visitor is.

Her nose twitches from the scent she picks up a second before she swings open the door, fresh blood that is somehow familiar to her heightened senses and her eyes drop to take in the form of the small boy who stands before her. "Can I help you?" Her eyebrow rises with the question as she wonders why he's staring at her with that ridiculous grin plastered across his face.

"Are you Emma?" He asks, the hope in his voice is too pronounced for her to ignore it and she has the briefest moment where she considers denying it, just to see the expression that replaces the excited one he wears that is beginning to grate on her nerves.

When it passes, she nods in the affirmative and, if possible, his face lights up even more. She frowns when he pushes his way passed into her home and she considers, once more, to do something less than kind by grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and tossing him out but then he starts talking about adoptions and fairy tales and, a feeling of dread pools in her stomach.

"I'm Henry," he finally pauses his rambling to introduce himself and Emma stares blankly down at him, already having connected the dots as he adds. "I'm the son you gave up ten years ago."

She looks to the man still lounging on her couch and tells him to retrieve the car, her commanding tone remaining unchanged as he immediately moves to comply with the order and she turns back to the boy and says, "I need to contact your parents, give me your phone number."

"You can't!" He cries and her head tilts curiously, unused to someone arguing with her after being surrounded by obedient and fearful lapdogs this last year. "Haven't you been listening? She's Evil; she cursed an entire realm and took away everyone's happy endings."

"Kid, this is the real world and the only happy ending a person will find around here is the finale to a nice massage. Now-" she lowers her voice, an unmistakable hint of threat within if he disobeys again. "Give me your phone number."

For a second, it looks like he's about to protest again but then a hint of something enters his eyes and she knows when he hangs his head in feigned resignation that he's up to something. "Fine," he mutters, reciting a number she recognises as belonging to somewhere in Maine.

Returning to the kitchen for her phone, she dials the number and holds the device to her ear as he jumps onto a stool. "She won't come to get me," he says and Emma smirks because if this is what he was trying to hide, then he was in for a shock when her chauffeur knocked on the door.

* * *

The pouting stops abruptly when he catches sight of the limo that awaits them at the curb, his eyes widening with excitement as he looks between her and the man standing beside the car holding the door open. "Get in," Emma says, gesturing for the boy to enter ahead of her and passing the directions she received from Storybrooke's Sheriff to the driver before she slips in beside him.

"You must be loaded." Is the first thing to leave his mouth when the car starts moving and she wonders if perhaps she should have sent him home by himself if this was the kind of conversation she's to expect for the next four hours.

Look out world, we have another Einstein is what her mind suggests as a response but she brushes aside the comment altogether and presses a button on the pad above her head, ignoring his far too enthusiastic approval at there being hidden compartments as one opens to reveal a collection of spirits she has a feeling she'll need to survive this trip without maiming him in the most horrific of ways.

She has significant doubt regarding his insistence that his adoptive mother is some sort of villain from the Disney channel but it never hurt to take precautions, and if that meant she requires a certain level of intoxication to passively deal with him, then so be it.

At the half hour mark, he makes a valiant attempt to fill the silence by babbling on with his theory about the town he lives in and it might have something to do with the fact she's had three glasses of vodka already, but Emma somehow finds herself mildly interested in what he has to say and she had to admit, assuming the kid wasn't thrown into a mental asylum, he would make one hell of a writer when he grows up.

When he talks about his mother, also known as the Evil Queen who he informs her is the Mayor of their little backwater town, she has to stop him from continuing for multiple reasons though mostly because her slight intoxication strengthens her curiosity and she has to ask, "Don't you find it strange? That there is this supposedly great evil, yet there's no explanation for its existence?"

"What do you mean?"

Downing the remaining vodka, Emma places the glass back within the compartment before she leans back against the seat and replies, "I mean that at some point this Queen was a child, a baby who knew nothing of good and evil. Babies just want food, sleep and unconditional love." She almost gags on the last part but manages to stop herself as she notices him studying her expression.

After a moment of consideration, he nods for her to continue and she does. "This storybook you have is clearly missing a lot of information. In my experience, the world isn't black and white like that; you can't condemn someone and label them as evil when you don't know their story. So what I want to know is what's hers?"

"She killed people." He points it out as though he hasn't already done so at least ten times by now and she's sorely tempted to tell him that she has also killed people, likely for much less reason than a Queen and despite that, she doesn't consider herself evil because taking a life is as natural for her as breathing is for him.

"And you think because murder isn't justifiable, that it isn't understandable?" She questions, genuinely curious about his response even though she doesn't wait for one. "What about men who assault their wives? A mother who abuses her children? I realise you're only ten and likely haven't come across people who fit such descriptions, but don't tell me that their victims wouldn't have reason to kill them."

"Well yeah-" he starts but she interrupts him.

"What if she was one of those people? What if throughout her entire life, she had no one who loved her, no one who stood up for her and every day she lived was one full of pain and suffering." She stops then, taking in his thoughtful expression. She knows that it's all too much, that none of these things were something that a child should have to consider and yet, if he wanted to be taken seriously then he needed to think about what he was attempting to accomplish, what it would mean for those involved if his curse _does_ exist and she really is this foretold Savior.

She has no intention on staying to find out if it's true or not. If his theory is accurate - which she won't deny it could be, not when she is evidence itself that some tales are more than simple bedtime stories or in her case, fictional erotica for lonely housewives with inattentive husbands – then that means in this town she is only hours from entering, exists a family she spent the better part of her life searching for, a search she stopped two years after conceiving the child that sat beside her and just as he would not understand what she is, neither would they and therein would lie another heartbreak, more fuel for a fire that already burns so bright it's a wonder she remains in control.

* * *

As soon as they pull up to what Emma could only describe as a small mansion, the door to the house opens and she has to do a double take at the woman who appears in the porch light, concluding within seconds that her first thought had been right; the brunette is without a doubt, positively gorgeous and when the driver comes around to her side of the car to open her door, she finds herself hesitant to move.

"That's your mother?" She continues to stare at the woman, her gaze hidden within the darkened confines of the vehicle as he grunts his confirmation.

It becomes obvious to her rather quickly that despite the brunette's appearance, the Mayor had been worried out of her mind and Emma emerges from the car without another word, beckoning for her offspring to follow and shooing the driver who attempts to aid her as though she were a little old lady.

Some days being a mistress among vampires was simply ridiculous.

"Henry!" The boy grumbles something under his breath and Emma flicks the back of his neck before pushing him forward and into the frantic woman who rushes toward them, embracing him as she questions, "What were you thinking?"

"I found my real mom!" He shouts as he pulls away and Emma blinks rapidly at his retreating back, disbelieving of the venom in his voice after their discussion on the way here. She wants to go after him and wring his little neck for speaking that way to his mother, but then the sound of her speaking draws Emma's attention.

"You're Henry's birth mother?" The question is barely more than a broken whisper and only causes the desire to beat some respect into the kid even more appealing as Emma stares into chocolate orbs that shimmer with unshed tears.

"Emma," she answers after the silence stretches a bit too long, reading the brunette as someone who despises unnecessary touching as she resists offering her hand. "Emma Swan."

"Regina Mills," the woman supplies, her composure returning as she straightens her back and raises her chin. Emma watches the transformation with curious amusement, admitting to herself the brunette certainly has the regal bearing that she imagines a Queen would, that she _knows_ the Elders maintain as a way to demand reverence from the lessers and she smiles in response.

"I apologise for any inconvenience _my_ son has caused," Regina goes on to state and Emma allows her smile to widen, picking up on the distinct meaning behind the emphasised claim, an action that causes a perfectly sculpted eyebrow to rise. "And I thank you for returning him to me."

There is something off about Emma Swan, Regina thinks and it has nothing to do with the whiff of alcohol she had smelled on her approach, though that did warrant some concern considering her son had been in the woman's care for a good handful of hours. Whatever it is about her, she can't quite put her finger on it and she supposes that is why, after introducing then dismissing Graham and thanking him for his services, she invites the woman in for a drink.

As Emma enters the study and removes her coat to drape across the back of her sofa, Regina's eyes roam appreciatively over the form encased within a finely tailored suit, not missing the way her appraisal is returned similarly when she completes her inspection much sooner than her guest and a small smirk twitches at the corners of her mouth as she moves over to the mantle.

"I hope you don't think it too forward of me," she says as she hands the woman a glass of cider and sits on the opposite side of the sofa. "But what is it that you do, Miss Swan?"

"Not at all." Emma smiles, crossing her legs and setting the glass atop her raised knee as she replies, "I own a number of nightclubs and restaurants all over Massachusetts and, on occasion, I dabble as a Bounty Hunter when normalcy becomes too monotonous."

It isn't a lie, at least not completely.

She does in fact own numerous pieces of real estate due to her leading the Boston Community and she receives a nice tidy profit from each of them, but she spends far more time chasing bounties than she does managing the clubs and she keeps her distance from any kitchens, being the fire hazard waiting to happen that she is. She assumes what the Mayor is really interested in is her monetary worth; which is rather substantial and a fair question when one considers the fact she arrived in a limo, dressed as one would when attending an important event rather than returning a runaway child to his mother.

"Pursuing criminals across the globe sounds like an adventure, though I imagine there is a certain amount of risk involved in such an undertaking," Regina speculates and Emma inclines her head with a faint smile, bringing the glass to her lips as Regina continues. "It must leave little time for more personal things."

Emma can't resist a chuckle at the implication. "If you're concerned that I might decide to stick around to entertain your son's fairy tale fantasy then I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me." In truth, a small part of her does want to remain in the sleepy little town and she likely would until tomorrow night, depending on how much longer it is until the Mayor kicks her out of her house but it had nothing to do with her son and everything to do with said Mayor who she finds... intriguing.

"Fairy tale fantasy?"

Tilting her head with a frown Emma asks, "You aren't aware of his theory regarding your town?" The little interaction she had witnessed earlier outside between mother and son made her assume the boy would have taken every opportunity to accuse the woman of all her crimes, especially considering how quick he had been to share them with Emma who is, by all accounts, a complete stranger.

Regina leans forward to place her drink on the table and when she sits back, she angles her body toward the blonde in an open gesture while resting her arm across the back of the sofa. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're referring to," she admits and Emma pretends to be oblivious of the fact the new position is only part of a mask to hide the woman's discomfort.

Of course, now that she's revealed the reason he came to find her, Emma supposes she has no choice but to barrel onwards. "I assumed that as the villain of the piece, he would have said something to you," she explains and Regina purses her lips while she continues. "He thinks you cursed an entire realm and that the citizens of Storybrooke are fairy tale characters who have forgotten who they are."

"I see." Her voice is stony and Emma notes that her eyes match the tone but instead of retreating, as she believes others likely would at this point, she shakes her head and enjoys another taste of cider before venturing further.

"As I said, I won't be staying and I wouldn't presume to tell you how to raise your son but you may wish to speak to him." She raises her hand when a snarl curls the Mayors lip; the last thing she wants is to upset the woman. "Merely a suggestion if you don't wish a reoccurrence of tonight. I wouldn't be opposed to returning, but I doubt you enjoy panicking when your child is missing."

Her defences soften with Emma's comment and Regina feels herself relaxing as she finds that she is unable to resist once again studying the blonde. She still can't determine what provoked her to invite this woman into her home but with the admittance of wanting to return, she realises it is something she also isn't opposed to.

"Must you leave?"

Brown eyes widen as the question slips unbidden from her lips and she finds her irritation returning as the blonde allows another chuckle to escape, but before she can think of a way to retract the question, Emma drains the last of her drink and stands so suddenly that Regina is left without speech or coherent thought when her eyes land on the woman's backside. It is immediate to her then, that the reason she is drawn to this stranger is because of the attraction she feels in the moment as her eyes wander and her mind wonders what noises the blonde might create were she to sink her teeth into the firm mounds.

The sound of a throat clearing startles Regina from her thoughts and she looks up to find amusement dancing within the emerald depths of Emma's gaze, her cheeks colouring with embarrassment as she averts her eyes when the woman speaks.

"For now, I must." Regina swears rather than sounds meeting her ears, the words are a silken caress against her flesh that sends a shiver through every one of her nerve endings and her heart rate increases tenfold as she closes her eyes and _feels_ the rest of Emma's words. "But you are simply too enticing, Madam Mayor, that I doubt I will stay away too long."

And as her eyes flutter open, Regina looks about the room with confusion creasing her brow as the woman is nowhere in sight.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma knows she probably shouldn't have used the voice on her but it had been far too tempting to resist in light of the obvious attraction the woman had been feeling towards her and, as she uses her gifts so rarely as is, she felt the opportunity had been too good to waste. What worries her is the thoughtless way she chose to depart; having made no sound and vanishing without a trace has no doubt put the brunette on high alert.

As she wanders through the mausoleum, she calls to the chauffeur turned impromptu guard who stands just outside. "Richard, contact Victor and tell him I have need of one of his kind."

Being that he can move about during the day, her driver is the only one she can rely on until one of the Brethren arrives to take his place and though she is loath to slumber within this macabre tomb, she thinks the choice more appealing than mesmerizing some hapless human into surrendering their own home, especially when that would likely gain the Mayor's attention if she found one of her citizens living in squalor.

She had taken the stupid route enough times today.

Hearing him mumbling into his phone, she continues her wanderings and as her eyes land on a particular coffin she sighs and mutters, "Crap," as the words **Henry Mills, Beloved Father** glare up at her.

"Let's hope Sunday isn't visit dear old dad day for the Mayor," she says to herself, her fingers tracing the lettering along the plaque.

"Mistress Swan?"

Her head snaps up and she glances over to where Richard stands nervously at the entrance, another sigh leaving her because he still refuses to refer to her by name as she has told him to countless times. "Yes?"

"He said Michael is the closest, he should be here within the next two hours."

"Good." Chewing her lower lip thoughtfully, she considers the pros and cons of remaining in the town longer than she originally intended. While she has very little interest in fairy tales and magical curses, she can't deny that she feels a certain pull when it comes to the brunette. It would be possible for her to conduct business from here with a few calls to the right people, though that did mean she needs somewhere more permanent to reside than this crypt.

* * *

"Hey, Mayor Mills." Regina blinks slowly and lowers the newspaper she had been reading before the rude interruption, her eyebrow raised as she looks to the waitress who remains ignorant of the disturbance she's creating with her irritating babble. "Met the new guy in town yet? He's even better looking than the Sheriff, dresses nice too."

It dawns on her relatively quickly that she must be referring to the man she caught a brief glimpse of last night and she rolls her eyes, sniffing in distaste as she replies, "How fitting that the waitress is attracted to the chauffeur, I can't wait to see the movie that blossoms from your pink collar love affair."

"Huh?"

Rubbing her temple while sighing in annoyance, Regina raises her half-empty cup to the brunette and waits for her to refill it before advising, "He's a limo driver, Ms Lucas and I wouldn't bother if I were you, he'll be gone by the end of the day."

"Uh if you say so." Is the response and Regina's hand pauses in its ministrations as she tilts her head, the question on the tip of her tongue clear in her eyes as the brunette explains, "It's just he came in asking about available housing in the area, seemed like he planned on sticking around is all."

Her lunch now ruined, anger rears its ugly head and Regina growls low in her throat as she stands, her glare directed at the waitress. She knew it had been too easy and that trusting the blonde to keep her word was foolish, she should have forced that woman out of her town the moment she entered it. "Where did you send him?" she demands, indifferent to the way the woman shrinks back at her sudden aggression.

"G-gold," she stutters and Regina sneers at the mention of the imp as she rummages through her purse, tossing a few bills on to the table before she turns and storms out of the diner.

The last thing she needs is some outsider snooping around her town and sticking her nose in where it doesn't belong, least of all the damn birth mother of her son - as if she wasn't having enough trouble with him already. There is no chance in hell that she's going to sit around and do nothing while that woman inserts herself into his life in an attempt to replace a role already filled, more than accurately if she were any judge.

So the blonde bimbo has wealth, dress sense and little helpers she probably rewards with a pat on the head while they pant up at her from their knees on the floor, begging for scraps of attention. The thought stops Regina in her tracks and she glares off into the distance at some undefinable point, seemingly frozen to anyone who happens to wander by as she waits for all those thoughts that follow to pass.

Shaking her head, she mutters something under her breath and continues on, the sharp click of her heels on the pavement helping her to concentrate as she reminds herself that this woman is the enemy and not the very vivid fantasy she had indulged in upon slipping between fine Egyptian cotton last night.

"Where is he?" She demands of the man behind the counter the moment she barges her way into his shop, not even flinching when the door slams hard against the wall and causes the windows to rattle in their frames.

"Well hello to you too." Comes the mocking reply and she seethes as he remains engrossed within the ledger in front of him.

"I swear to all that is-"

"No need for threats, dearie," he interrupts, closing the book as he raises his head and flashes a deceptive smile. "I imagine at this time, he is examining the lovely cabin in the woods that he purchased. You're a few hours too late to prevent the little population increase, I'm afraid."

Regina blinks, confusion taking over her expression as she searches his face for answers that she knows she'll only receive if she asks and after a moment, she does. "Why? Why give them your cabin and why would you allow them to stay in this town?"

He opens his mouth to respond but she glares, snapping her finger at him as she adds, "And don't you dare act as though you have no idea what I'm talking about."

"I think we're passed pretending at this point," he concedes. "But if you think I'm going to reveal my hand so soon, you'll be sorely disappointed, your Majesty."

* * *

Leaning in the doorway of the mausoleum, Emma stares down at the unconscious woman laid across the ground as her fangs retract and she wipes the remnants of blood from the corner of her mouth. "While I do appreciate the snack, please try to refrain from assaulting the town's residents in future," she says warily as she looks to Michael who grins from his perch on one of the headstones.

"She smells weird; besides, she was the one snooping around. Richard said she's a waitress from the diner, seems to have the hots for him." He pauses then adds, "Not that I blame her."

"I sometimes wonder why I like having you around," she says casually, watching as he strolls over to stand beside her. "Then you say something to prove just how gay you are and I remember."

"Says the dyke in the suit," he retorts and she throws her head back with a mock laugh before punching his shoulder.

Looking around them, she frowns after a moment and asks, "Where is our favourite human anyway?"

"Still at the cabin he found for you, said the place needed a-" he raises his hands and hooks his fingers into air quotes as he finishes, "-touch up."

"Right well…" Gesturing to the unconscious woman on the ground, Emma begins walking as she says, "Grab her and show me where this cabin is, then you can convince Richard to stage a sleepover with her to cover your thoughtless ass."

It takes less than ten minutes for them to arrive at their destination and Emma holds up a hand as they draw closer to the voices she had heard upon their approach, remaining within the shadows long enough for her to ascertain who their unexpected guest is and her eyes widen as she realises it is the voice of one pissed off Regina Mills.

"Shit." Spinning to face Michael, she explains, "That's the Mayor. She can't see you lugging around one of the residents, so stay here and I'll send Richard to you."

When he nods, she emerges from the trees and walks up behind the Mayor who has yet to notice her, attention focused solely on Richard whose entire expression is one of immediate relief when he catches sight of her. "Miss Swan, the Mayor here has been looking for you."

"Michael is waiting for you, coward," she informs with a teasing grin as she brushes passed him and into the cabin. After a moment she adds, "Come along, Madam Mayor; I would hate for you to catch a cold while yelling at me from out there."

With a glance, she quickly memorises the room to make it seem as though she's been here previously and wanders over to the corner where Richard has kindly setup a cabinet with a collection of drinks, pouring them each a glass of whiskey as the faint click of the door closing reaches her ears.

"Miss Swan, what do you think you are doing?"

Picking up both glasses, Emma moves across the room and extends a hand, forgoing a response until Regina sighs and accepts the proffered drink. "I didn't feel like going home just yet," she states, leaving the woman no choice but beside her if she wants to sit as she drops to the middle cushion of the couch.

"You expect me to believe you bought a house for a few extra days in town?" Disbelief laces the question as Regina glares at her and Emma smirks, shrugging her shoulders and sipping her drink as if to imply that yes, that is exactly what she is meant to believe.

"Either you are that irresponsible and frivolous or you are a terrible liar," Regina hisses, slamming her glass down on the table that separates them. "I will not have you putting ideas in my sons head and I want you out of my town, Miss Swan or so help me I will make your life a living hell."

Finding that she is once more intrigued and unashamedly aroused by the threat, Emma regards the brunette who fumes silently while she waits for a reaction that comes only when Emma notes her resolve weakening in the barely perceptible slump of her shoulders. Lowering her glass, she leans forward and places it on the table before standing slowly, stepping around the furniture and closing the space between them in the blink of an eye.

"You have me all wrong, Madam Mayor," Emma murmurs, lips curling as pupils dilate slightly and Regina stands her ground. "I'm not interested in _your_ son."

Her eyes are drawn to the bob of a throat and rise as a pink tongue darts from perfect lips, mind screaming for her to close that last inch between them and claim the brunette, demanding the thorough possession of this venomous woman who thinks she can threaten her without consequence.

But Emma isn't the one who snaps first and she moans at the hungered press of lips against her own, the coppery tang of blood filling her mouth as her lower lip is clamped between teeth and fingers thread themselves within her hair. She welcomes the plundering of her mouth as the tongue forces its way inside, her hands gripping the slim waist and yanking the brunette against her as their teeth clash and tongues duel.

Her tie becomes a leash that Regina wraps around her hand, leading Emma back to the couch where she is unceremoniously shoved down before the brunette straddles her legs and returns to her mouth. Hands pull her dress shirt from her slacks and slip beneath, nails raking down the taut flesh of her stomach and digging into her sides as Regina dominates the kiss.

"What are you doing to me?" Regina gasps after a few heated minutes, rocking her hips as she tries to catch her breath and Emma laughs, inaudible pants becoming heady moans as she ignores the question and attaches her lips to Regina's neck.

Sliding her hand under the short skirt, Emma drags her knuckles against damp lace and coaxes more of those delicious sounds from swollen lips before Regina brings everything to an abrupt stop with a forceful tug of her hair. "Wait…"

Emma slumps back against the couch, her ability to focus on anything other than ravishing the woman in her lap has her easily lifting Regina and dumping her on the cushion beside her before she stands, retrieving a refill for her drink while the brunette composes herself enough to explain why it is they had to stop.

Removing her jacket, she downs the first and tosses the garment to the side, loosening her tie before pouring another and moving back to her seat. Unused to the suffocating silence that seems to have snuck up on them, whiskey is less like vodka and more like water to her kind but she relaxes with the simple, repeated motion of drinking and eventually meets Regina's stare, having felt it on her ever since she had stood up.

"Why do I want to keep touching you?" Emma's eyes drop to the brunette's lap where hands continuously clench, proof of the very claim the question implies and she shakes her head with a sigh.

While vampires are more desirable to almost every other species and she could manipulate people into doing what she wants, whatever is drawing them together has nothing to do with her, at least no more than Regina herself and she has no explanation beyond the obvious.

"Mutual attraction, I suppose." She shrugs and Regina snorts her disbelief.

"There is something about you," Regina stands and bends to retrieve her drink from earlier, knocking back the amber liquid as Emma's eyes wander appreciatively over the view. "And I will find out what you're hiding."

Emma smirks and watches the woman saunter over to the door, speaking as she pulls it open. "Stop trying to run me out of your town and you'll find out more than you ever wanted to know."

"Consider me curious, Miss Swan," Regina replies, her throaty chuckle muffled behind the now closed door.


	3. Chapter 3

Loud thumping awakens Michael and he rolls from the couch to his feet with a groan. Throwing a glance to the clock, he growls as he crosses the room to the door, flinching at the bright light that hits his eyes before a head moves to block it. Blinking rapidly, a woman comes into focus and he knows without a doubt that this is the one Richard spoke of in detail.

Uptight, aggressive but undeniably beautiful.

"Where is she?"

Still recovering from partial blindness and with a mind foggy from sleep, it takes a few seconds before it dawns on him who she's referring to. He shakes his head, regretting the decision not to roll over and pretend he hadn't heard the knocking. Even if a majority of people would have a heart attack after learning the truth about his friend, he had a hard time lying to people. "She isn't here."

"Don't lie to me, I need her!" Had he not noticed the tear-stained cheeks or the wild, hysterical look in her eyes, he would have laughed at the words. What this woman needs are anger management classes.

"Look, Mayor Mills, if she was here I would get her for you but she isn't." He raises his hand when she opens her mouth to speak, stopping her words with an offer, "Perhaps I could help?"

Her face contorts with equal amounts of confusion and anger as she growls, "Who are you?"

"I'm Michael," he replies. A werewolf you pissed off waking too early, his mind adds. "I'm a friend of hers and whatever the problem is, she'd want me to help since she is unable to."

He inwardly sighs in relief as she composes herself with a few deep breaths before she explains, "My son… the mine collapsed shortly after he went in there and he's trapped."

Disappearing back into the dark cabin, he searches around for where he left his jacket earlier that morning and asks, "Has the sheriff's department been notified? Someone who could launch a rescue?"

Grabbing a fistful of leather, he throws the jacket over his shoulder and moves back into the light. Knowing the problem, he is somewhat sympathetic to what she must be feeling and chooses to ignore the unvoiced insult that her annoyed glare suggests would have been her response. "Right, right okay, take me to him and I'll see what I can do."

Her nostrils flare and he can feel the beginnings of a headache, resigning himself to the fact her mood is not about to improve unless her son is returned to her safe and sound. "How the hell can you help?" she snaps.

"Jesus fucking Christ, lady," he mutters beneath his breath, forcing her back as he steps on to the porch and slams the door shut behind him before making his way to her car. "I'm the only choice you have; we can either stand there while you yell at me and his oxygen runs out or you can damn well take me to him."

In fairness, there is a difference between being sympathetic and being a doormat for the woman to walk all over when she is the one who woke him to deal with her problem. Thankfully, their drive to the scene is silent and he glimpses her iron grip on the steering wheel from the corner of his eye, wondering how it is that the woman went from yelling at his friend, to having the nerve to appear the next morning and ask for help.

In what has to be record time, they arrive within five minutes and he launches himself from the car before she can start bitching some more and wanders over to where a group huddles together. Their hushed whispers quite clear in his own ears, he rolls his eyes when it becomes apparent that these people were the town's gossips, veering off and coming to stand beside a man in uniform who appears to be studying a map of the area.

"You must be the sheriff," he states and puts forth his hand as the man turns upon noticing him, introducing himself, "I'm Michael, the Mayor asked for my help."

"Graham," the man responds and shakes his hand with a smile. "I'm not sure what good more bodies will do us, no one seems to know of a way into the mine besides where the tunnel collapsed and I can't find a damn thing."

"In most cases, a mine has multiple entrances," Michael says and glances down at the map laid before them. He shakes his head after a moment; they didn't have time to comb the area if they were hoping to save the child rather than find his body.

"I think I have an idea that I'll need to run by the Mayor."

Though he dreads another conversation with the woman, he turns swiftly and marches over to the brunette all the same. As much of a risk as it is, he wasn't kidding about the kid's lack of oxygen. Knowing Emma, even if she had no interest in the boy, she still wouldn't forgive letting him die, not when he shares her blood. "Mayor Mills, I need you to take me to the collapsed entrance."

She narrows her eyes but surprises him and beckons as she starts walking without a hostile comment or thinly veiled insult. the silence rather pleasant in comparison to the start of his morning as he trails along behind her.

His eyes zero in on the rubble before they reach the area, scanning for the weakest points in the blockade to avoid once he does the seemingly impossible. Moving forward, he tests the beams and loose rock with his hands, rolling his shoulders as he looks back over to the Mayor who appears to be studying him.

"I'm about to do something I probably shouldn't," he admits and to anyone who knows him, the impish grin he wears would clue them in on the fact he is about to do something he _knows_ he shouldn't. By the tilt of her head, he's sure the Mayor has at least gathered that much. "You may or may not panic, I can't be certain about these things but I assure you I have every intention of saving your son."

That said, he frees a beam from the debris on the ground and shoves it under a precariously balanced rock, ensuring what stability he can before he rips the largest of the boulders from the entrance and tosses it effortlessly to the side.

"What's his name?" He calls over his shoulder.

"Henry," she replies and he glances back, confused by the steady sound of her voice.

He acknowledges the calm curiosity in her gaze with a nod of his head and enters the mine, partially shifting his form to utilize his wolf's speed as he darts through twists and turns, calling the boy's name. Someone would have some explaining to do when the dust settles and his mind helpfully volunteers Emma, this rescue mission the perfect blackmail for avoiding _that_ conversation.

* * *

Emma inhales sharply and stares up at the ceiling above her bed, her heightened senses detecting the scent and sounds of multiple people moving about upstairs. Closing her eyes and concentrating, she hears the footfalls descending the stairs to her quarters seconds before a wrist presses against her mouth and she sinks her fangs in, humming as the hot caress of blood fills her mouth and scorches her throat.

Her eyes snap open at the unexpected taste of the wolf; hunger satiated far quicker as her fangs retract. She releases Michael with a lick of her lips, her look questioning as she sits up. "We have guests who got hungry and I sent Richard to fetch them food; he called when you summoned him," he explains.

Rising with a content sigh as her flesh tingles pleasantly from the quick feeding; Emma staggers over to the wardrobe and begins the tiring endeavour of searching through her clothes for something to wear. Usually, she would spend a few hours alone, looking over documents for one of the nightclubs and study files for her next bounty target but the added presences in the house has her guard up. Not that she isn't excited about the prospect of seeing the Mayor again, but she does need to know whatever is going on before she can relax and get back into her normal routine.

"Is there a reason the brat and his mother are here? She doesn't seem the type to make a friendly social call," she questions.

"That woman is a nightmare," he informs her as though she didn't already know that and she laughs as she reappears, holding an outfit consisting entirely of black; jeans, blouse and knee-length boots – lingerie already firmly in place. "Nice variety you have there."

"No one asked you, Kyan Douglas," she retorts, childishly poking out her tongue at him as she saunters over to the bed and drops everything into the middle.

He chuckles and shakes his head, retrieving a simple belt with a silver buckle from the assortment on her dresser and tossing it to her as he enquires, "Are you claiming to be straight now?"

Emma grimaces, her shudder at the thought is enough of a hint as to how repulsed she is by _that_ idea. "I would be if I were a guy," she replies.

He grins, nodding his head in understanding. "Fair enough."

Buttoning her blouse, Emma fixes him with an unimpressed stare. "You did something bad, didn't you?"

"Who me?"

"Yeah you, don't think I didn't notice you avoiding my question," Emma laughs. "Did you knock out some other innocent woman?"

Feigning offense, he asks, "How do you know it wasn't a guy?"

"Because you're more likely to seduce them, now answer the question before I tell Richard you have a huge gay man crush on his dangly bits."

Emma rolls her eyes at his mock gasp of horror and he sighs, "Look, the kid did something stupid, then she came looking for you this morning to ask for help and I offered my services… And did something stupid of my own."

Bouncing from the bed and darting to the door, he adds, "She'll explain everything to you and that will give me time to run as far away from you as I can."

Glaring at the retreating figure, she shakes her head and laces her boots. If Michael thought she would be pissed by whatever she is about to learn, then she knows it isn't anything good. Bracing herself for a shit storm, she leaves the comfort of her room and ascends the stairs to the upper floor.

* * *

Regina offers a hesitant smile to the man approaching the cabin who returns it with one of his own as he passes, his arms loaded with all kinds of food from Granny's. While Michael had informed her that the driver is harmless, he also claimed himself as such and after what she witnessed at the mine, she didn't believe that for a second.

She returns her attention to the forest that stretches for miles, muscles loosening as the sound of the door closing behind him meets her ears. For some reason, the fact her son is in that cabin with those same two men does not worry her, a sense of trust she is not at all familiar with had been formed when Michael emerged from the mine, a soot-covered Henry cradled within his arms along with numerous scrapes and bruises on the both of them.

As uncertain as she is of everything else, his safety for now is one thing that fails to fill her with doubt. What is bothering her most about the entire ordeal is her curiosity, which has only grown in the time since she left the blonde last night. Not only had Michael refused to tell her what exactly he is but any time she mentioned Emma, he changed the subject or simply didn't respond and no amount of prodding would sway him.

After nearly three decades of blind obedience, she is both annoyed and excited for the chance at something different. Add to this newfound excitement the confusing and overwhelming desire she feels towards her son's biological mother, and it leaves her with the maddening intrigue that has her wanting to rip the hair from her head in frustration.

With a sigh, she backtracks from the edge of the treeline and sits down on the porch, pulling her coat more tightly about her body as the temperature begins to drop and jerking when the door opens again, turning her head to see who she needs to feign civility for this time.

Emma stands with her hands buried deep in her back pockets, hair pulled back into a ponytail, head tilted with a faint but charming smile on her lips. "Hey."

"Miss Swan," she replies, inspecting the blonde with a hint of approval, appreciating Emma's chosen outfit all the more when her eyes land on the two buttons of the blouse left undone where she catches sight of lace peeking out. "No suit? Or do you only have the one and decided two days in a row was enough?"

"You caught that, huh?" Emma chuckles, coming to stand beside her and leaning against the railing as she grins down at the brunette. "I usually only wear them when I have certain meetings… and events where I'm expected to socialise with elitist snobs who think they're better than everyone else."

She shrugs, slipping down a step to sit beside her as she keeps talking. "The kid showed up an hour or so after I came home from one of said meetings and last night…" She pauses. "Well I did mention the fact I had no intention of staying, so I didn't have a change of clothes until today."

Regina continues to stare for a moment more, a strange want building within her for the blonde to carry on speaking and never stop, before she frowns and shakes the thought from her mind.

"Why are you out here?" Emma asks.

Turning back to stare out at the forest, Regina replies simply, "I needed to think."

When she says nothing further, Emma prompts, "About?"

"A number of things, though none more baffling than witnessing a man lift something that had to weigh at least a ton and throw it ten feet as if it were nothing more than a beach ball."

"He outed himself?" Emma groans but it quickly turns to laughter, which causes Regina to narrow her eyes and stare at her as though she has lost her mind.

"Sorry… He's gay and I found it funny," she explains once she stops. "I have my immature moments."

"Obviously," Regina drawls with a roll of her eyes, though the twitch of her lips gives her away. "That does explain it though."

"Did he not sufficiently grovel for your attention?" Emma teases, chuckling at the noticeable flushing of cheeks and nudging Regina playfully with her shoulder. "I get it, you're gorgeous; he had to be either gay or blind. Though I'm not sure blind would be a hindrance because that voice…" She whistles. "Damn."

This time, Regina is the one to chuckle and it feels good, having something to laugh at after the spectacularly bad day she has had so far. Somehow, it is effortless for her to accept that Emma is the reason she is starting to feel better and the way being around the blonde puts her at ease.

Sighing softly, Emma leans back on her hands and smirks as it draws the brunette's interest back to her chest, reminding her of the lengthy stare she had received when she first appeared. "So," she interrupts the silence. "Did he explain anything to you or do I need to kick his ass later for leaving it up to me?"

"He said he was chosen to fulfil an important role and that I would need to earn your trust if I wanted to know anything more," she recites what he had said verbatim, a frown creasing her brow. "He made it sound as though he is a servant of sorts, yet he introduced himself as your friend."

Releasing a puff of air, Emma sits forward, folding her arms across her thighs as she starts to explain. "I suppose his kind are often thought of as servants but that has never been how I see them. In a way, I think it's because my own kind are thought of as monsters and people are often more comfortable with shoving an entire race they don't understand into a single stereotype, rather than open their mind to the possibility that we are just as different as they are."

Realising she is getting off track, Emma dismisses the bitter memories from her past and looks to the brunette to ensure she hasn't lost her. Met with nothing more than curiosity, she smiles. There really is no easy way to tell someone that the stories of supernatural beings aren't just stories, so she chooses the straightforward approach.

"He's a werewolf."

The confession fails to garner any of the responses she expects. Accusations of being delusional, laughter born of mistaking her words for a joke, fear, irrational excitement; none of it. Instead, she is blindsided by a flash of recognition and… understanding.

"He's a guardian, a protector of the nightwalkers which makes you…" Emerald eyes are drawn to the bob of a throat, much like they were last night before Regina finishes, "You're a vampire."


	4. Chapter 4

Emma doesn't deny it and chooses to sit and wait, not knowing if Regina is processing or if there is something else. She has questions, so many questions but this moment belongs to Regina and she resolves to wait for her answers. She is not idle and instead uses the time to regard the brunette, noting the subtle shifts within her expression and the mouth that opens, then closes without a single utterance.

If not for the insects or the soft breeze moving through trees, they would sit in silence while seconds turn to minutes. At least half an hour had passed already and her patience amazes even her, yet she is resolute in her decision. She can see the wheels turning in Regina's mind, hear the sounds of her breathing as her eyes skip over the pulse that beats steadily beneath flesh.

"You aren't meant to exist."

Emerald eyes snap to brown, darting away to the ground as Regina tugs the collar at her neck and pulls her coat more firmly around her body, feelings of shame washing over Emma. "So the stories say," she murmurs. "You shouldn't believe everything you read."

The frustrated huff of breath forces her gaze to return and Regina shakes her head. "I don't mean the ridiculous tales from this world," she replies. "I mean you should be extinct; the last known nightwalker died over millennia ago. Evangeline Cervantes, murdered her human lover when she caught him having an affair. She was caught hiding in the attic of his home, they pried the roof off and she burned alive."

So many questions, Emma's mind repeats.

She sighs and stands, taking a few steps toward the forest before she turns. "Actually, Evangeline Cervantes was the human and she staked her lover Damien Le Mort. He was the son of one Alessa Le Mort, the true last of the nightwalkers who escaped her world after killing Evangeline and..." she gestures around them. "Found another."

Regina frowns as if nothing were more annoying than having the wrong information. Emma can't help but laugh and after a moment in which the brunette glares at her, Regina asks, "Why did Evangeline kill him?"

"She didn't know what he was. They were set to marry and he somehow managed to hide his identity from her for nearly a year." Emma shrugs. She had heard the story so many times now, that it no longer affected her the way that it used to. "He loved her, decided he couldn't lie to her anymore. You know, the typical tragic romance that this world would butcher to line their pockets in exchange for two meaningless hours of entertainment."

"And I thought I was jaded," Regina muses with a smile that has Emma rolling her eyes as she returns to her side and sits down.

"Why aren't you freaking out about this?" Emma questions, unable to ignore her own curiosity any longer. "I mean, I've never told anyone what I am before but I'm at least ninety percent certain most people would have runaway screaming in terror. Either that or tried to convince me to commit myself to the nearest mental institution."

"Are you crazy?" Regina asks and Emma shakes her head in reply. "Should I be afraid of you? Are you going to bite me and drain my blood when I'm not looking?"

"No to the first, possibly to the second and definitely not to the third." Another frown creases Regina's brow and Emma chuckles before she elaborates, "You have no reason to be afraid of me. I would like to bite you but I'm not interested in draining your blood, as that would likely kill you and decrease my chances of being able to do the second thing."

When she finishes, she notes where Regina's gaze lingers on her chest for the third time that night and she smirks. Lowering her voice suggestively, she leans in and adds, "Though if you'd rather be the one to do the biting, I'm not opposed to the idea _and_ I heal quickly."

"Lucky me," Regina murmurs hoarsely and before Emma knows it, a hand fists in her shirt as Regina beats her to the punch once more and claims her mouth, giving in to the inexplicable pull that exists between them.

Emma's mind blanks for a few glorious seconds before she tenses and pushes her away. She avoids looking for the reaction that paints itself across the brunette's face, her jaw clenching in irritation as she turns to stare out into the darkness surrounding them.

As she knew it would, the door swings open behind them a moment later and renders an explanation unnecessary as Henry's voice pierces the sudden silence. "Mom?"

"Oh," Regina breathes softly, the relief in her tone is clear and Emma side-glances the woman, seeing her assumption confirmed by the imperceptible sag of shoulders as Regina turns to her son. "Yes, sweetie?"

"I brought you something to eat since you didn't come in," he says and steps on to the porch, his eyes darting between both women as though he's trying to discern whether he needs to intervene. "Hi Emma."

"Hey kid," she replies and the nudge against her leg lets her know her attempt to hide the edge from her voice isn't successful. With a mental sigh, she forces herself to speak with a lightness she isn't feeling and adds, "Your mother and I were just talking, lost track of the time I guess."

"Okay," he says slowly and backs away toward the door. "I'm going to read comics with Richard then."

Emma smiles as Regina clucks her tongue in disapproval, imagining a thought along the lines of Richard being a man-child running through her head as she informs him, "We will be returning home shortly; it's nearly your bed time, young man."

"Yes _mom_ ," he grumbles and Emma flinches as he slams the door a little too hard, raising her eyebrow as she looks to Regina.

"What?"

Sifting through her thoughts, Emma quickly dismisses them all because none of them seem appropriate when referring to the child of the woman she's interested in. She knows that if she wants to remain on Regina's good side, then her tolerance of him needs to change and so she settles for a question instead. "Is he always like that?"

"You mean like a child who recently found out he is adopted and thinks his mother is the Evil Queen, who supposedly killed countless people for no reason other than because she could?"

Emma had started shaking her head the second Regina began talking and didn't stop until she finished. "I mean like a child who appears to be suffering some sort of bi-polar disorder. If I had spoken to any of my foster parents the way he does to you, they would've beaten the sense back into me," she scowls at the thought, vivid memories of a time long since passed filling her head.

Okay, so maybe the thoughts she tried to keep to herself were slipping through but seriously, the kid is damn lucky in comparison to what she got away with when she was younger. "He thinks you're this Evil Queen and looks at you as though nothing will convince him otherwise. Even when he does something nice like bring you dinner, he has some ulterior motive. I'm tempted to reveal to him just who his beloved Savior happens to be. You think he'll want me around once he finds out my secret?"

Regina allows her to rant, though as soon as Emma realises the blank expression on the woman's face, she stops herself from continuing and drops her head into her hands with a groan. The anger she feels at the mere mention of the son she gave up all those years ago is unlike her. It brings back memories of the monster she was in the past, the one who lacked the control she had worked so hard to gain over her natural instincts, the one who probably would have killed the boy without a second thought and showed no remorse after the fact.

With the shake of her head, Regina stands and Emma stiffens at the flash of anger swirling within the brown depths of her eyes. "What if he's telling the truth?" Hands balling into fists at her side, she asks, "What if I am the Evil Queen? Do you think I would warrant his treatment then? Would knowing that I have killed people who didn't deserve it change your opinion?"

"You can't be serious." The words cause Regina's nostrils to flare and she spins on her heel, ready to be done with the conversation but Emma grabs her by the wrist and forces her back around. "Why would it change? Whoever you are does not alter the fact you're also his mother who he treats like shit."

The door opens again before either of them can continue and Michael pops his head out. "You guys are getting kind of loud," he says with an apologetic smile.

For what feels like forever, the two women stare at one another before Regina rips her gaze from Emma's and glances to Michael. "Please have my son gather his things and meet me in the car, I think it's past time we left," she says, ignoring the protests that fall immediately from Emma's lips as she walks over to the Mercedes, slamming the door with something akin to finality when she drops into the driver seat.

* * *

Emma's words eat at her on the drive home and whenever she chances a look into the rear-view mirror, a hate-filled glare is there to meet her. Her heart aches each time, the painful stab beneath her breast increasing in intensity with every second while a silence that overflows with tension burdens the air around them.

As soon as she pulls into the driveway, Henry is out and walking quickly up the path, only stopping when he reaches the stoop where he waits for her to unlock the door with a scowl.

Part of Regina wishes he would say something, even if his words cut like a knife. While another, bigger part of her just wants things to return to how they used to be. When he had been a little boy who loved his mother, a time where her only hope was that he was safe and happy rather than keeping her guard up constantly for the moment he snaps, unable to hold his hate for her in any longer.

She unlocks the door without word and watches him run into the house, eyes following his ascent up the stairs. He stops at the second floor landing and she braces herself as best she can, busying herself with removing her coat as she feels his glare burning a hole right through her.

"I hoped you would leave me there," he says with a voice void of emotion.

He doesn't wait for her to respond and she's glad when he continues on to his bedroom, the tears that burn her eyes falling as he disappears. Her throat closes up with the emotional overload and she presses a hand to her chest, rubbing the area roughly as her mind tries to convince her that it is impossible for a heart to break.

No matter what Emma said, Regina knows she deserves everything he throws at her. She spent years tormenting people, killing others for the simple pleasure their deaths brought her. The blonde was right about the way he treats her now, but she was wrong about being his mother. Henry didn't see her that way and isn't that what counts? It was the same reason she never considered Snow White her daughter despite being married to Leopold.

Snapping herself from the thoughts, Regina kicks off her heels and makes her way to the study. Her hand drops from where it lays across her chest, the ache beneath having dulled to a faint, tolerable throb. She pours herself a glass of cider and moves to the window, staring out into the night as she waits for the inevitable haze to cloud her mind and deaden her senses enough for sleep to end this miserable day.

* * *

When the taillights from the Mercedes vanish from sight, Michael stands patiently beside his friend. One of two things can happen as a result of the anger he feels radiating from her. She will either close in on herself and pretend everything is normal, or she will allow the feeling to consume her and it is the latter that has him remain, a silent volunteer if the time comes and she needs to vent her frustrations on something.

"I fucked up," she says eventually and he looks to her with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. Talking had not been an option in the past, Emma preferred the violent route more often than not.

"Oh?" He tries not to sound too interested. He had heard a fair amount of their conversation before he interrupted them but he didn't understand eithers reaction to one another after the last of what had been said.

"I should have known better than to bad mouth him to her," she explains. "It's obvious how much she loves him, how blind she is to his behaviour."

"I don't think she's blind to it," he disagrees. As little interaction as he has had with the Mayor and though he has minimal knowledge of the supposed curse that brought them here, there was no mistaking the depreciation lacing Regina's tone when she spoke of the Evil Queen. "Whether this curse business is real or not, she seems to think his treatment of her is some kind of penance, a key to atoning for the mistakes she made in the past."

Emma nods along to his words, her expression thoughtful as she recalls Regina's exact questions. It was obvious the woman thought she deserved to be shunned for whatever reasons she had convinced herself of and though Emma wants them to talk about it, she knows it will take some time to recover from tonight unless the kid goes and gets himself trapped down a well.

At some point, the opportunity to know the truth will present itself to her and if it doesn't, then she'll find a way to make it. Until then, she has a lot of pent up aggression to release and with a sigh, she says, "I need to hit something."

"Well bring it on, blondie," Michael grins and with the quickness that only those of their kind are capable, his hand connects with a loud smack against her cheek.

Licking the blood from her lip with a smirk, she crouches down and growls, "Oh it's on."


	5. Chapter 5

Emma hears him long before she catches his scent.

Standing along the dock, smelling anything beyond the repugnant aroma of fish is almost impossible. There is a temptation to hide but she knows if she does, he will continue to look for her and the sooner she deals with whatever reason he came to find her, the sooner she can return him home, which is where he should be at such a late hour.

It angers her that he has come looking, less because she has no desire to see him and more because there is not a single doubt in her mind that his mother expects him to be in his bed where he would be warm, bundled up beneath soft covers and fast asleep, dreaming of whatever it is little boys dream.

There is stillness behind her and without turning around, she asks, "Does your mother know you're here?"

"Yeah," he says and she grits her teeth at the smartass way in which it had been said, knowing what he is about to add. "You do."

She keeps her eyes on the motion of the water and the ripples along its surface soothe the anger burning in her veins. Her fingers curl into the railing, nails digging painfully into metal and there is softness in her tone that is betrayed by her words, "I'm not your mother, kid. The sooner you accept that, the better."

A few years ago, before she was turned, before her eyes were opened fully to the world around them and all its wondrous and sometimes frightening mysteries, her response might have been different. Now, the thought of family, the thought of a child of her own; they were naught but distant fantasies. She no longer feels the hope and excitement that used to fill her, no longer yearns to seal the void a lack of those things used to create.

"She doesn't love me," he mumbles quietly and she looks down at him as he comes to stand at her side. "All she does is lie to me."

There are plenty of responses that come to mind, that she wants to give but the strongest is aggressive, emotional, defensive on behalf of the woman who raised him, who has proven she loves him with the simple fact he has a home. He isn't some starved child, wandering the streets and begging for scraps, relying on the kindness of strangers the way she had to. He is loved - but it is clear to her that he is either buried so deep in denial that he can't recognise it, or he is simply too stubborn to admit he's wrong and uses it as a reason to lash out and rationalise his treatment of her.

"So what?" His brow creases at the question and she waits until he raises his gaze to hers before she clarifies, "So what if she doesn't love you? You have a home; somewhere you're safe and cared for. You never have to worry about where your next meal comes from, or whether that hole in your jacket will cause you to freeze to death next winter."

Releasing her hold on the rail, she turns and rests her back against it now that she has his undivided attention, folding her arms across her chest as she stares down at him. "There are children all over the world who suffer from homelessness, starvation and sickness and here you are, spoiled little rich boy from Maine whining because he isn't loved as if a pitiful little emotion is what keeps you alive."

She breathes deeply, closing her eyes with a grimace as she briefly forgets where they are and the smell of fish causes nausea to pool in her gut - some days, she thinks the benefits to what she is aren't worth the disadvantages. Her eyes snap open when the sound of a sniffle meets her ears and though she remains unapologetic, she acknowledges his hurt feelings by placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Why do you always take her side?" He asks after a while, his voice scratchy and somewhat grating on her nerves.

"Because you're wrong," she replies, shaking the less appropriate thoughts from her mind. If she wants him to reconsider his treatment of his mother then she doesn't think calling the kid a dick would be beneficial and she could handle a little disappointment in herself for resisting.

He opens his mouth in protest but she sees the anger in his eyes first and grips his shoulder with a firmer hand, signalling that she isn't finished. "Your belief that she is the Evil Queen does not allow you to treat her, or anyone else the way you do. You are a child and no matter what you think, she is your mother who has done no wrong to you."

His face contorts with a scowl. "She lies to me!" He shouts and she has the sense not to slap him, despite the overwhelming urge she has to do so.

"Everyone lies, especially when it comes to protecting themselves and the people they love," she growls. "If your theory is real, if she is the Evil Queen; what will admitting it to you accomplish?"

His mouth opens and closes while he searches for a response, frustration seeping in to his expression as he comes up empty.

When his shoulders drop in resignation and he hangs his head, she straightens and pushes away from the rail, directing him to her car with the hand still on his shoulder. "If you're right, if the curse is real and she is the person you think she is, then you need to give her a chance to tell her side of the story before you condemn her; it's the least you can do after the ten years she spent nurturing you." She speaks softly as they walk, trying to reason with him.

She knows it will take much more than one or two conversations to change his mind but it feels like a start, progress to expose his actions and perhaps set him on the path to communicating with his mother rather than throwing accusations around without allowing her to speak for herself.

* * *

Regina looks up from the book in her hands with a frown, setting it along with her tea on the table before she stands and makes her way towards the foyer. There is only one person who visits this late at night and she is no mood to entertain his cravings, having lost that particular desire the moment that infuriating woman entered her town.

As such, when she pulls open the door to who she thinks it is, her breath catches in her throat and the dismissive phrase on the tip of her tongue goes unsaid. Her lack of words when facing those breath-taking pools of emerald lasts no longer than a minute, however, as a head peeks out from behind the blonde and her son's sheepish expression causes a scowl to replace surprise.

"Bed, now." She gestures to the stairs and he stumbles inside without comment, the look of guilt he wears failing to soften her disposition as she adds, "You're grounded for the next month, young man."

Surprise returns when the punishment is met with no more than a sigh and as she faces Emma, her eyes travel the length of her body. There is a tug of arousal in the pit of her stomach at the sight of tight black jeans, paired with a red silk shirt and black leather jacket, though she pushes the feeling aside in favour of questioning her son's sudden change in behaviour.

Somehow, she knows Emma is responsible for the lack of back talk.

"I take it I have you to thank for the absence of a performance just now?" she inquires and receives a shrug, which manages to irritate her before Emma speaks.

"We talked," she explains. "I thought I should hear him out before returning him, otherwise he'd just try to escape and find me again. I pointed out a few things to him, he listened and now he's home. Nice seeing you again, Madam Mayor."

Regina's eye widen in panic as Emma turns and before she realises it, her hand reaches out to prevent the blonde from leaving. It's been three days since she drove off from the cabin and she has regretted it every minute since, powerless against the perplexing feeling of missing the sheer pleasure of the blonde's company.

Emma stops and her head turns slowly, a slight upturn of her lips. "Was there something else?"

Hand dropping from the shoulder back to her side, Regina swallows the lump in her throat and takes some time to gather her courage. When she feels her voice will remain steady and not reveal how weak she feels in the moment, she questions, "May we talk?"

She is unsure if Emma will accept the invitation and there is a second where it looks as though she will refuse, but then she turns fully and Regina breathes a small sigh of relief.

Holding the door wider, she steps back to allow her into her home and closes her eyes briefly as Emma passes, shoulders brushing against one another and sending a shiver down her spine. Closing the door, her state only worsens while she watches the blonde remove her jacket, the form-fitting blouse underneath doing nothing to hide the mesmerizing flex of biceps as muscles move beneath silk.

Knowing what Emma is, she is aware she has little choice in admiring the woman's form but she also knows were it simply down to the allure of her race; her control would not be as difficult to maintain. While she was never presented with the opportunity of meeting one before, Regina is well versed in the stories of magical beings, both those thought to be extinct and those whose existence are well known; at least in her world.

Needing a distraction from the thoughts that are starting to consume her mind, Regina retrieves the jacket and hangs it up before she leads her guest to the den where she had been obliviously enjoying her night – well, as much as she could enjoy it with the woman now present at the forefront of her thoughts.

"Would you like something to drink?"

Lowering herself to the chair beside the fire, Emma shakes her head and drapes her arms across the armrests, crossing her legs as she replies, "I'll pass." The ease with which she appears at home causes Regina to avert her eyes, silently scolding herself when the thought fails to produce the annoyance she would otherwise feel were it someone else and a flush spreads through her.

Mistaking her indecision about wanting a drink of her own as she stares at the ground, Emma speaks up after a minute. "If you've changed your mind, I can go," she offers and for a second, Regina feels the walls around her begin to crumble before Emma hurries to correct her apparent misread. "Or… I can sit here quietly until you're ready."

For the first time in three days, Regina smiles as the familiar calmness settles around her shoulders and she moves to take her seat across from the blonde. If she doubted herself before, she can no longer deny the effect the woman has on her, nor the fact she had missed her and the feelings her presence conjured.

"Thank you," she says and at the look of confusion, she elaborates, "For bringing him home again."

Emma inclines her head. "Perhaps you'll consider speaking to him this time," she suggests with a raised eyebrow, reminding Regina of the night they met where she made that same suggestion and the brunette frowns.

"If I had a clue as to what I should say, I might be more open to considering it but as he hasn't bothered to tell me why it is he seems to hate me and instead chooses to pretend I don't exist, it's rather difficult to entertain the idea of conversing with my son."

With a shrug, Emma stands and wanders over to the bookcase while Regina follows with her eyes. While talking had been her idea, she knows Emma has questions of her own and she finds it exasperating that the blonde doesn't simply come out and ask whatever it is she wants to know. If she were expecting her to admit that Henry's theory is true then she will be sorely disappointed, as Regina has no intention of doing so.

Emma on the other hand, knows what she wants to ask and the reason she stayed behind but she can't find the right words. Her instincts tell her that maybe the kid's story has more truth to it than she gave him credit for in the beginning, and though that would be something that needs to be discussed, it didn't feel as though it were the right time.

Alternatively, perhaps it is the perfect time but not the right _point_ in time.

There is one thing she is curious about above all others and it seems as good a place as any other to begin their conversation. "How do you know about the nightwalkers?"

"I know many things, Miss Swan."

She has to refrain from rolling her eyes as she turns away from her perusal of books and faces the brunette, her expression suitably unimpressed by the response. "We both know this world has no knowledge of them, which means I'm already assuming you're not from this world," she says.

Raising her eyebrow, she gives Regina the chance to respond but the smirk that had been in place when she turned remains, and the brunette doesn't appear to have any intention of admitting or denying the assumption. "This also means I'm inclined to give more credence to your son's claims," she continues and while the smirk falters, she still refuses to respond.

"Are you the Evil Queen?"

"What would you do if I said yes, Miss Swan?" Regina leans back against the couch and spreads her arms along its back, a move that causes Emma's gaze to fall to the woman's chest as it strains the buttons on her shirt. "Would you take my son? Perhaps look for a way to break this supposed curse and be the Saviour, a hero for Henry to look up to?"

"Actually…"

Emma steps closer, the uncertainty overcoming Regina's expression causing a grin to sprout on her lips and spread the closer she gets. It becomes more and more evident that the Mayor's confidence is nothing more than a façade, having fallen completely by the time Emma stands in front of her.

"Part of my curiosity would be sated and you would lose a little of your mystery, which can't be helped as the darkness would explain that... predatory vibe you have going on." Her eyes rake over Regina's body to emphasis the point, her pose screaming, _"I'm the one in charge,"_ and doing unspeakable things to Emma's insides. "There would be admiration, of course."

At this, Regina raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and Emma chuckles. "Cursing a realm would take a woman of considerable power, I have no doubt," she reasons. "But then, I would also have so many questions. I mean _this_ is your Happy Ending? This town is kind of dull, I really don't see how trapping yourself here for eternity would make anyone happy."

"You honestly expect me to believe this?"

"No," Emma replies and brown eyes widen as though she was not expecting genuine honesty. "If you are the Evil Queen, then you're also extremely intelligent and possess – well I would call the habit healthy under normal circumstances, but we both know how abundant your suspicion is, don't we?"

"What are y-"

"After all, you did run a background check on me as soon as you knew I had your son," Emma interrupts. It amuses her as much now as it had when her partner in Boston called to inform her two hours into her trip to Storybrooke, possibly more as she watches the myriad of emotions play out behind those expressive eyes.

Regina settles on a mix of frustration and interest as she asks, "How could you possibly know that?"

Sitting on the arm of the couch, sharp canines accompany a sinister smile as she leans in and reveals, "You required records only available in Boston and I _own_ Boston, Madam Mayor."


	6. Chapter 6

"You can't be a Mistress," Regina murmurs quietly, unable to detach her gaze from pale lips. Despite the unusual attraction, the nighttime hours and the strangeness of their first meeting, she didn't quite believe the blonde was one of them until that smile...

Emma tilts her head, amusement dancing in her eyes as she asks, "Can I not?"

Shaking her head, Regina raises her hand as she speaks, curling fingers around a jaw and sliding the pad of her thumb along the contours of Emma's mouth. "The fact you had Henry only ten years ago and your kind is unable to procreate, means you're barely more than a fledgling."

Parting her lips, Emma allows the thumb to brush against the pointed tips of her teeth before she pulls back enough to explain. "I was sired by an Elder who failed to train me properly. I nearly died because of her negligence and to prove my worth to the Council, I was ordered to kill her. My life and Boston were my reward, both of which I keep as long as I continue to prove myself."

Curious, Regina pauses in her ministrations to sort through her thoughts. Deciding on which of the many questions she has, she asks, "How old were you? When you were turned?"

"Twenty," Emma replies and wets her lips with the tip of her tongue. "Two years after I gave birth to Henry."

"Eight years," Regina whispers, pupils expanding with each passing breath. The power that Emma must possess to defeat her sire at such a young age only serves to heighten her attraction to the blonde. She struggles to contain her desire, feeling as it stretches the limits of her control and seeps into her voice. "Elders are at least three hundred years old."

Emma hums an affirmative, too distracted by the thumb that resumes tracing her lips as she studies the brunette. She is convinced now more than ever that Regina Mills is no simple Mayor of this backwater town in Maine. It was one thing to know of the nightwalkers, quite another to have such intimate knowledge of them.

"Time has started to move again." The throaty tenor of the brunette's voice causes flames of lust to ignite within Emma's veins but her brows furrow in confusion as Regina observes her reaction.

When comprehension crosses her face, Regina expects Emma to pull from her grasp. Intending to confess or not, she now knows that this woman is no better than she is. The darkness that continues to wrap itself around her heart is the same darkness that will forever cling to this woman, a darkness that will continue to grow wherever life may take her.

Nightwalkers were instinctual killers but to be counted as one of their leaders, to be a Mistress; she knows Emma would have gone far beyond the defeat of her sire to earn and keep the rights associated with the title. While her body count might not be up there with the Evil Queen, it certainly had to be high. Combined with the things she would need to do in order to stake her claim to dominance over Kindred who were older than she is – it didn't take much to imagine what sort of activities factor in to such a task.

"There's no magic in this world."

Regina is sure she misheard and she blinks out of her trance, eyes searching for an explanation, clarification – anything that would make sense of the words that just fell from those strangely kissable lips that continue to divert her attention from the conversation at hand.

"All these people," Emma continues when it becomes clear Regina isn't about to speak anytime soon. "Hundreds if not thousands of them, calling for your head when their memories return and you, with nothing to defend yourself, would be dragged from your home and forced to give it to them."

Their gazes meet as a cruel smile curls ruby-red lips and Regina snarls, "Not without a fight I won't."

Matching the smile with one of her own, Emma presses a finger beneath Regina's chin, tipping the brunette's head back and lowering her mouth until there is barely a breath of air between them. "There will be no need, as I have no interest in saving these people," she states, closing the gap to seize lips that willingly part in invitation.

Whether it is the words, the implication, or the genuine tone, something resonates from within and for the second time, Regina feels herself trusting another person. It is unlike the trust she found herself extending towards Michael for saving her son, less rational in sense- more powerful, if she were being honest with herself -and though it is confusing, as with everything regarding Emma; acceptance is almost instantaneous.

Grabbing Emma by the collar of her shirt, Regina twists in her seat and slides towards the other end of the couch, pulling the blonde with her as she lies flat on her back. She moans her appreciation of the weight that settles on top of her, remembering just how long it has been since she was last beneath someone- a woman no less -and how much she actually enjoys it.

Lips burn a trail down her neck and she tenses as teeth graze against her pulse, only to melt into the plush cushions beneath her as the hot mouth latches onto her neck. The gentle sucking of lips with the rough strokes of a tongue draws an agreeable cacophony of sound from deep in her throat. She feels the shudder against her, the action serving to further increase her arousal and she pushes under Emma's shirt, hands blazing across a heated back that feels impossibly softer than its silken cover.

When a thigh forces her skirt to her waist and slips between her legs to press against her sex, she whimpers and the sound is so helpless, so wanton, that Emma pauses and lifts her head from delectable flesh with a playful smirk. When she looks into lust-filled eyes, she expects desperation, a plea not to stop. Instead, what she sees is challenge, a dare to do just that and for a moment, she considers it.

Whether the Mayor, a mother or the Evil Queen; Emma is almost certain Regina is unaccustomed to being denied the things she wants. But while the temptation is there, and though it is strong, her own need to claim, to devour is much stronger. Pushing aside her natural instinct to rebel and do the exact opposite of what Regina wants- what she herself wants –Emma reclaims plump lips, sliding her tongue into a mouth that welcomes her with a nip of teeth and a strong suck.

Sliding her hand between them and cupping lace-covered sex, their kiss vibrates with twin moans of pleasure as Regina grinds down, coating Emma's hand with her slick heat.

"Jesus," Emma chuckles and pulls back. With a glance to her glistening hand, she looks to Regina and raises her eyebrow. "When was the last time you got laid, woman?"

"None of your business," Regina growls, not in the mood for another round of twenty questions. "Either do something about it, or leave and I'll take care of it myself."

"Well now, that would just be rude," Emma grins and barely a moment later, the rip of lace and a strangled gasp-turned-moan reverberates through the room as fingers glide through sodden folds. Emma enters her, silencing the reprimand on the tip of her tongue, which causes another heady moan to take its place and fall from Regina's lips before Emma bends to recapture them.

Their rhythm starts slow- almost painfully so -and though Regina needs more, she is so close to tipping over the edge that the thought of their time together ending prematurely is enough to hold her back from demanding it. Her walls clench around digits, milking them for all their worth as she arches her back and takes them in deeper. A guttural, almost inhumane sound builds within her chest as Emma adds a third and starts to thrust hips into the back of her hand.

Unaware she had closed them, her eyes flutter open when Emma's lips are no longer on hers and she trembles, overcome with the sudden desire to feel teeth penetrate her flesh, eyes fixed on elongated fangs as Emma pants from above her. "Emma," she rasps just loud enough to get the blonde's attention. "Bite me."

Releasing a breathless chuckle, Emma shakes her head and quickens her pace. She wants to taste Regina, to drink in the essence that provides this breath-taking woman with life but she knows that with her senses already overloaded with sensation, she would lose control as what little she has is in danger of failing.

"Not tonight," she murmurs and the flash of disappointment in those chocolate orbs causes an unfamiliar need to comfort, to reassure that while she isn't willing to give in to the woman's demands in the moment, it didn't mean there isn't a chance for it in future.

Clasping her free hand around the back of Regina's neck, she pulls the brunette up and brushes their mouths together, curling her fingers as her bottom lip is ensnared between perfect teeth. Another chuckle bubbles forth as she feels the sharp pain, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth in retaliation for the denial- not that she minds, moaning as a tongue forces its way back between her lips and Regina stiffens against her with a muffled cry.

There is an odd sense of belonging in the moment.

A flicker of _something_ in her chest.

Something warm.

Were her heart not cold and dead beneath her breast, she would have sworn the feeling was its stuttered beat.

* * *

When Regina comes to, she is disoriented and it takes her a while before she realises the softness beneath her head is not that of the couch in her den. Her eyes open blearily and through the darkness, she can just barely make out the silhouette of the body her subconscious had decided made a better pillow than the real thing.

Between the blind panic and the unnatural feeling of affection for the woman who had stayed until she came to, she chooses the former and starts to roll off the blonde. She manages to lift all of a hand from a hip before an arm tightens around her waist and the murmured, "Don't do that," puts an abrupt stop to her plans.

Raising her head from where it rests against a stomach, she struggles to breathe as Emma stares down at her with an unreadable expression. She feels warm all of a sudden and the feeling only strengthens as knuckles ghost lightly, almost reverently across her cheek.

Swallowing down the strange emotions brewing within her, Regina licks her lips and looks to the clock on the bedside table, inwardly cursing as it reads 4:28 and she realises Emma will be returning to the cabin soon. Her head drops back down with a sigh and her panic fades with the knowledge.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep," she says, eyes closed as she revels in the feeling of fingers threading their way through her hair and the nails that lightly drag against her scalp.

"Well it was two am," Emma speaks softly. "We can't all be creatures of the night."

Tilting her head back, Regina looks up at her and asks, "Why did you stay?" There is no anger or accusation in her voice, purely curiosity. The only real experience she has when it comes to sleeping with someone were Graham and Leopold, and neither stayed afterwards- though admittedly the former only ever left because she always threw him out when she was finished with him and truthfully until this moment, she had never wanted anyone to stay in the first place.

"To begin with, it was because you refused to let go of me when I brought you up here," Emma chuckles and her eyes drift to where Regina's hand still clings to the bottom of her shirt. "But then I realised, I would have stayed because I didn't want to give you the wrong impression by leaving without telling you."

Regina's heart beats almost violently against her chest as she asks, "What impression would that be?" With equal amounts of dread and hope, she fails to mask her feelings as they lace the question with a treacherous voice.

Fingers trail through her hair, brushing over her neck to her shoulder where they then travel down her arm to coax the hand into releasing fabric ensnared within her fist. "That I was only interested in you for one reason," Emma murmurs and weaves their fingers together. "I told you the night we met that you intrigue me, and the night after; that I stayed for you and not your son. Being in your presence not only amuses me but calms me in a way that nothing, and no one, ever has."

With the admittance that her presence instills the same things Emma's does in her, Regina dismisses her curiosity about finding her amusing and asks, "Am I the reason you won't break the curse?"

"No," comes the quick denial and she attempts to snatch her hand away in sudden anger, only for the hold to tighten as Emma explains, "Were the curse to break, I would protect you against those that wished you harm, as would Michael and no ill-equipped mob would stand a chance against me, let alone the two of us together."

Mildly placated by the response, Regina breathes a sigh and relaxes back into her while Emma continues, "I decided before we met that if what Henry said was true, then I wouldn't break it. Now that I know it is real, I also know my parents are here somewhere and I can never face them, not as I am now."

Eyes widening in realisation, Regina inhales sharply and sits up. How could she have forgotten the Savior is the damned love child of those two, insipid morons? More importantly, why in hell was this woman not tearing her limb from limb? She is the reason, after all, for why Emma can never meet her parents and here the woman is _snuggling_ up to the Evil Queen, confessing things best kept to herself.

"You need to leave," she says and for once her voice doesn't betray her, sounding emotionless despite the fact she is freaking out.

Fortunately for her, Emma is far more observant than most and had already gathered she was about to be kicked out. Were dawn not fast approaching, she would have argued the move but for now, she accepts the dismissal and rises from the bed. She feels the eyes follow her to the door and opens it before pausing. Turning back to the brunette, she informs, "I'm coming back," and slips into the hall without waiting for a response.


	7. Chapter 7

The events of that night with Emma play in Regina's mind constantly over the following week. She tries to tell herself the loss she feels is because of her son who, while tampering his desire to lash out, remains distant. She has even gone so far as to risk asking him about what Emma said, but he ignores her and shrugs off her questions whenever she enquires.

The way he dismisses her bothers her to the point that she almost gives in to temptation to visit the blonde, surprised the woman hasn't already tried to return to the mansion and demand an explanation for why Regina dismissed her that night. She supposes for someone who is immortal, time is an irrelevant thing and it is likely that Emma is waiting for her to make the first move. She would like to claim she doesn't intend to give in, but her resolve is weakening with each passing day.

Being that she is the child of Snow White and Prince Charming, Regina is conflicted about their involvement with one another. She wants to believe Emma has no intention of breaking the curse, part of her even does, yet she barely knows the woman. For all she knows, getting close to the Evil Queen is simply how the Savior operates.

While Emma may be the product of True Love, her very nature means her survival relies on a certain amount of deception and manipulation, which also means she cannot expect her to play by the rules of good as her insipid parents would have. The fact she found herself trusting her before receiving the reminder of her parentage only adds to her difficulty in staying away from her. Her fears of the unknown keep her walls up, but she can feel them failing bit by bit as her feelings for the blonde eat away at her.

The way she feels; she imagines is similar to withdrawal. She can barely sleep but when she does, all she dreams of are piercing green eyes and pointed teeth. She eats, yet food tastes as ash in her mouth and whenever she is around other people, all she does is snap at them.

It worsens day by day until early one morning, about a week later.

She awakens at 5am sharp, as she does every morning, except this time she is not alone. Even with her eyes closed, she can feel the presence at the foot of the bed and her breathing hitches in her throat. Her mind screams for her to move, to launch herself from the bed and run to Henry's room, pull him from his slumber and escape while she can.

She tries to tell herself that it is only Emma, that it cannot possibly be anyone else because no one else would dare, but for some reason she is unable to convince herself. Confusion fills her as she opens her eyes because there, at the end of the bed, stands Emma just as she thought and she wonders where; where is the feeling of calm that usually follows this woman about. Why does she feel as if she is still in danger?

"I'm not really here." She gasps when the voice drifts through her mind and she sits abruptly, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to remove the ghostly shimmer that embraces the woman as if an aura of some kind.

Her alarm sounds, unusually loud and her attention snaps to the clock. It reads 5:05am and that's when understanding dawns on her; whomever- whatever this is staring down at her- it isn't her Emma that flickers beneath the morning light, but this Emma smiles just the same.

"You are right, I am not your Emma; merely a projection of her consciousness." Regina closes her eyes, awash with the soothing sound of that hollow voice as it caresses her mind. "She feels you, your need for her and it pains her to stay away from you."

With a slow exhale of breath, she opens them again and stares at this manifestation before her, immediately aware of all the differences between this version and the version she knows. Eyes, which are generally filled with emotion remain blank and the slumped, carefree stance; rigid and hard. More and more dissimilarities become clear in these moments of complete silence.

Discomforted by the presence, she shifts beneath the covers and swallows nervously, her mouth dry as she tries to find the words to express the thoughts and questions that are mounting by the second. This Emma tilts her head and merely stares, seemingly waiting for her to do something, which only confuses her even more.

"I am waiting for you to ask your questions," she states.

Regina frowns, only just now realising this _thing_ seems to be able to read her mind and before she can ask why it doesn't simply seek the questions out without her having to voice them, it provides her with the answer. "I believe some questions you would rather remain a mystery and that is why I will not simply pick one at random."

Huffing in irritation, Regina throws the covers back and climbs from the bed. She moves to her wardrobe and searches through it for an outfit to wear, muttering under her breath. Reaching for a pair of black slacks, she pauses and scoffs at herself, snatching them from the shelf before emerging from the wardrobe.

"Why are you here?"

Seemingly unperturbed by her behaviour, it replies simply, "While deep within sleep, she lacks the control required to resist your call."

That stops Regina dead in her tracks and she turns to face the form with an incredulous look. "My _call_?" she snaps. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Your soul calls out to her, a constant haunting song filled with sadness and longing."

Her anger rises quickly and a sneer forms as she points to her bedroom door. The Evil Queen longed for no one, certainly not some filthy blood-drinking creature of the night. "Leave my house and don't return," she snarls.

"Sending me away won't change the truth," comes the reply and her nostrils flare as this _thing_ has the audacity to smirk at her.

"GET OUT!"

* * *

That afternoon when Regina returns to her office following lunch, she receives her second visitor of the day. The man stands expectantly at her desk, propped up by his cane and she can't help but snarl at the sight of him. Her secretary had informed her he was waiting, but that didn't stop her from hoping she had imagined their conversation.

She ignores him as she closes the door behind her, rounding the desk to her chair and sitting as she slams her purse down. Rubbing her temple in regret of the question she is about to ask, she sighs before deciding to get it over with. "What do you want, Gold?"

There is a heavy pause, broken only by his sigh as he takes a seat and stares at her across the desk. Facing her current vampire problem, who it seems has actual power beyond money and good business sense; the former powerful, dark sorcerer has taken a backseat in rating of priority for attention. So she glares at him in turn, not in the mood for his silly little mind games, waiting for him to respond rather than dignifying his pitiful attempt at intimidation.

"I simply wondered if you had the pleasure of welcoming our new citizens," he questions calmly after a minute more and she rolls her eyes. "I hear Miss Swan is somewhat of a recluse and seems rather difficult to find in such a small town."

Flipping open the folder she had been working on before lunch, she reads the documents therein with feigned interest as she replies, "I'm sure Miss Swan has more important things to do with her time than chat with the local pawnbroker. She did mention something about owning a number of businesses throughout the state - perhaps she was summoned out of town."

"I hear your son has no trouble communicating with her… in fact, I'm told he is rather taken with her," he says and she has to resist an amused snort.

If she is to believe the blonde's behaviour and attitude towards her son, which she is inclined to, then the feeling is far from mutual. As a mother, it bothers her that this woman denies the attention he seeks from her, but for Gold to try to get under her skin when she is aware of Emma's feelings…

Knowing something he doesn't is entertaining and rather satisfying, truth be told.

"Whether my son is interested in this pawn- who I have no doubt is meant for another of your twisted games -is none of your concern," she dismisses, a grimace painting her features. "Now if you're done fishing for information I don't have, feel free to see yourself out."

She is surprised when the scrape of his chair sounds against the floor as he stands, but the relief she feels when it is followed by the closing of her door overwhelms all else. Her shoulders slump, elbows coming to rest on her desk as she drops her head into the palm of her hands. Either she is getting too old or she has lost the passion for the entertainments of the Enchanted Forest, no longer excited by the prospect of another long, drawn out game involving the Evil Queen and the Dark One.

He has something up his sleeve, specifically connected to Emma and the curse – she knows that much. After all, it was his curse originally and he was the one responsible for making the child of Snow White and Prince Charming the Savior. Whatever she is able to do to keep him from enacting his plans needs to be done, and that means she first needs to warn the blonde who she hopes still maintains her position on breaking it.

With a groan, she straightens her spine and glances over to the clock on the wall. Henry will be out of school in another two hours, and Emma won't rise for at least another four. While she supposes she can talk to Michael, since he most likely knows everything by now, it takes little convincing for her to decide to kill two birds with one stone; wait until nightfall when Henry is asleep and she can spend some time with the blonde.

* * *

Traipsing through the forest, Emma swears she can hear the bones in her arm grinding against one another and she glares at the man beside her. "You dislocated my shoulder, you asshat," she mutters and he snickers, though it sounds like more of a whistle due to the set of his nose.

"Yeah well, you broke my face, you skankish harpy."

"Skankish har-" Emma cuts herself off, freezing mid-step as a scent drifts towards them and she closes her eyes. She breathes it in, a faint smile spreading across her lips and for a second, she forgets the state of her friend and asks, "Smell that?"

Michael scoffs, "You're a lot funnier when you're out in the sun."

She huffs a laugh and shakes her head, sending him a semi-apologetic look before she starts moving again. "Our favourite Mayor has come for a visit," she explains, grinning when he responds with an exaggerated groan.

Emerging from the trees, they see Richard greeting the brunette and as they walk closer, Michael leans in and in a voice, not quite a whisper, he says, "If she upsets you again, Richard can be your punching bag this time; I have aches in places I'm not even sure exist."

Her laughter causes Regina to turn quickly to face them, her gasp audible from a few feet as dark eyes take in the sight of vampire and werewolf, no doubt covered in blood and newly forming bruises that will have faded within hours. Before she can comment, Emma beckons Richard to them and as he nears, she gestures to Michael. "His nose needs to be reset, and you'll have to clean the wound on his back; it will heal, but it is deep and likely to take the longest."

Leaving them to it, she continues forward until she stands in front of the brunette and tilts her head with quiet curiosity. "Ever fixed a dislocated shoulder?" she asks. She's done it herself countless times before, but with everything else hurting, she's more confident in causing further injury than she is of correcting it.

Without word, Regina slips behind her and Emma smiles as she feels the fingers snake their way around her wrist. As soon as she closes her eyes and relaxes, her shoulder begins to throb as Regina applies pressure, easing the arm away from her body and causing the muscles to strain.

The sound of it popping back into place follows a few minutes later and she hisses at the stab of pain, grinding her teeth while she waits for the relief to follow.

"Do I even want to know?" Regina questions, returning to her position in front of the blonde who shakes her head in answer. "You both look as though you're on the verge of…"

Emma chuckles, pries an eye open and grins as she finishes, "Death?"

When brown eyes stare back at her with barely concealed annoyance, Emma chuckles once more before she gestures for the brunette to follow as she leads them into the cabin. "Leave the door and follow me," she murmurs, guiding them towards the lower level where she spends a majority of her time going over bounty lists, the latest demands from the Council and an assortment of business documents.

Regina takes in her surroundings with a slight air of concern, and more than a little interest. Where Emma sleeps has been a passing thought over the weeks they've spent getting to know one another, though one she pushes aside as quickly as possible when it crosses her mind. She's only stepped foot inside the cabin a handful of times since learning of its existence over two decades ago and while she had been aware that its size is substantial despite outward appearances, she had no idea the extent of it until now.

A familiar feeling she hasn't felt since childhood takes hold as they wander the dimly lit hallway, passing by a number of closed doors. She wants to explore the rooms that seem to lack interest for the blonde beyond a mere glance in their direction, to push open their doors and discover what hides behind them. There were four rooms altogether, assuming there is something behind each one and it isn't until the end of the hall that they come to a stop.

Her eyebrow raises when Emma draws a key from her pocket, though the blonde pays her little mind as she unlocks the door and shoves it open, not even bothering to see if Regina is following her before she enters the room and makes her way over to the wardrobe.

A few minutes later, Emma smirks when she exits with a handful of clothes and a strangled sound escapes the back of Regina's throat. Dressed in nothing but the red lingerie she had donned upon waking, she tosses the blood soaked ruins of her previous outfit into a box by the door and drops their replacements onto the bed. "I heal more easily when there isn't fabric sticking to the wounds," she explains, though Regina appears not to hear as she occupies herself with memorising every visible inch of pale flesh.

Emma's inhales sharply as sudden warmth emanates against her back upon turning from the brunette and she looks over a shoulder, eyes questioning as Regina takes in the damage marring the skin. Every muscle in Emma's body tenses at the feeling of a hand resting beside the puncture wounds from Michael's teeth along her shoulder.

"What is the point of this?" Regina wonders aloud and Emma turns to face her again, studying her expression for a moment before she supplies the answer.

"It keeps me in control," she says and elaborates at the curiosity entering the chocolate depths. "Anger is a difficult emotion for me, the line between simple frustration and mindless rage is extremely thin; the simplest way for me to remain in control is to unleash it on someone willing, who can match me in strength – Michael has served that purpose admirably for almost three years now."

Relaxing into the touch as it returns, a finger lightly tracing the edges of marks from both claws and teeth along her ribs, Emma resists the voice telling her to pull away and allows Regina to examine the injuries as they begin to mend before their eyes.

After countless minutes, their gazes meet and Regina asks, "What happens if you lose control?"

Emma smiles apologetically and lifts her shoulders in a helpless shrug as she replies, "You pray that I'm not in your town."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt I owed everyone smut after that last chapter so...

_"You pray that I'm not in your town."_

xxx

Feeling the heat pool between her legs, Regina emits a small sound of longing and her hands take on a mind of their own. The wounds that marred Emma's form at the start of their night are no longer visible and her palms explore the sculpted body, ascending a toned stomach, core clenching as Emma's muscles flex and her fingers skitter across unblemished flesh to cup lace covered breasts.

Power has always had a strange hold on Regina.

She never wanted it for herself. Even as the Evil Queen, when she used the power at her disposal to instil fear and obedience, she never wanted it. Powerful people, however, were another matter and she finds that those who possess it tend to stir something deep inside her.

Each person is, of course, different.

Her mother for instance had the sort of power that caused Regina to develop an unhealthy attachment to her, one in which she disregarded years' worth of mental and emotional abuse under the guise of love—power that released its grip on her once she shoved her mother through the mirror.

Rumplestiltskin was another. He had been her mentor, tempting her with dark magic and the reward it provided when she surrendered to its embrace. The power he held over her was the promise of freedom and happiness—power he had lost when she cast his curse and realised none of what he claimed proved true.

Emma, she notes, is no different and her blasé attitude in regards to her apparent strength does nothing to dampen the flare of arousal that her words caused. This power Regina is intimately familiar with and is one she has used to her advantage countless times in the past—the power of desire.

When their eyes meet, she can see the lust swirling within the emerald depths as pupils expand and the nipples harden beneath her touch. The swipe of a tongue across lips draws her attention to that skilful mouth and she can't help but fall in to the kiss that follows, an undeniable hunger creeping into her consciousness that causes her to forget all else as lips willingly part for her inquisitive tongue.

Her stomach churns pleasantly as she watches eyes flutter shut and a soft moan vibrates against her mouth when she curls her fingers beneath lace. Wanting to hear more of those sounds, she pinches stiff peaks between knuckles and hisses as a sudden pain pierces her tongue. Before she can pull away and confirm her suspicions, a surge of heat spreads through her and she groans in approval as Emma begins sucking, the faint coppery tang of blood filling her mouth as her clit twitches in response.

The pain turns to a dull throb before Emma releases her and she fails to stifle the whimper of disappointment, hands darting to hips to prevent the blonde from taking a step back. Her fear of being left wanting however dissipates when, rather than putting a stop to their activities, lips trail along her jaw and down to her neck where teeth scrape in warning against her pulse.

Her entire body jerks as fangs penetrate flesh and the cry falling from her lips tapers off into another whimper as the darkness that begins to surround her flees almost before she registers its presence. Eyes she didn't know she closed snap open and Emma stares down at her, nostrils flaring as Regina realises those strong arms are the only things keeping her back from hitting the floor. Unable to form thoughts or even words, she merely stares back and wonders why Emma had stopped as every inch of her thrums with unsated desire.

"You didn't come here for this," Emma states and the throaty timbre of her voice sends another pulse of wet heat to the apex of Regina's thighs.

After a moment of allowing the words to repeat over in her mind, Regina raises her hand and digs her nails painfully into Emma's shoulder as she growls, "If that is why you stopped, I will kill you."

Emma chuckles and another pulse accompanies the sound as the arm around Regina's shoulders tightens. The hand disappears from her waist, landing high on her leg before pushing beneath her skirt. "I stopped because I want permission," Emma purrs, fingers dancing across the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. "At any other time; I would simply do it for your added pleasure but right now, I need to feed—and you are dreadfully enticing."

Relief, confusion and curiosity all battle with the overwhelming longing she has to feel everything Emma has to offer and Regina closes her eyes with a sigh. It never occurred to her that there is a difference between sating the hunger and drinking for pleasure, and in this moment with those fingers oh so close to where she needs them, she isn't even sure she cares what those differences might be.

"Consider yourself permitted," she murmurs and her breath hitches, the whisper of lips along her throat sending her heart racing as a finger hooks the side of her panties and roughly tugs them down, the material abandoned around her knees to fall to the floor as Emma slides fingers through slick heat and Regina groans her appreciation.

This time when teeth press against her neck, a thrill of excitement shoots through her before the faint pull of her subconscious returns, bringing back the darkness that blankets her mind as she drowns in the sensations consuming her body. The gentle sucking of the warm mouth and feeling the draw of her blood as Emma coaxes it from her is almost too much, pushing her dangerously close to the edge.

Her eyes fly open on a growl when Emma pulls back once more, but before she can voice her protest, fingers sheath deep within clinging heat and she cries out, hips bucking against the hand she had all but forgotten.

"You taste like magic," Emma whispers as she licks her fangs and the comment is so randomly absurd that Regina can't keep the laugh from escaping. Emma grins indulgently down at her and her stomach flutters, walls gripping tight to the digits buried inside her, somehow finding the sight unimaginably arousing.

"I don't suppose we could take this to the bed," she suggests after enjoying a few shallow thrusts and Emma hums, slipping her fingers from within clinging heat as she helps Regina regain control of her legs, setting hands on hips and directing her to the bed where she guides her down to the mattress.

Rising on her elbows, she stops Emma from climbing on top of her with a raised eyebrow, gaze pointedly fixed on lace-clad breasts. "You're wearing far too much clothing," she points out, fully aware that her state of dress remains almost entirely unchanged since her arrival.

"Right," Emma deadpans even as she reaches behind herself and unclasps her bra. " _I'm_ the one with too much clothing."

"In all fairness, we're wearing roughly the same amount of clothing we were when this started," Regina reasons with a smirk, admiring the newly revealed flesh and biting her lip as the thought of Emma's breast filling her mouth filters through her mind. "I can hardly be blamed for your lack of decorum."

"Says the woman not wearing any panties," Emma retorts playfully, peeling her own down her legs and stepping out of them as they fall to the floor.

"Nor…" Regina pauses to watch their descent, losing her train of thought as her eyes return to the apex of thighs and she notes the very visible wetness gathering there. Licking her lips, the sudden want to taste Emma overcomes her and her voice is hoarse as she commands, "Come here."

She's surprised when Emma immediately does as told, half expecting the blonde to resist being ordered about purely out of spite. Even more surprising is when Emma straddles her and swipes through her own sex, holding a glistening finger up in offer as their eyes lock and Regina leans forward.

Taking the digit into her mouth, a growl vibrates in her chest as Emma's essence paints her tongue, the combination of sweet and salty forcing her eyes to close in sheer pleasure. Her fantasies didn't hold a candle to the real thing and all her desire coalesces into a single thought, she needs more—needs her head between the blonde's legs, to feel Emma come undone inside her mouth.

"More," is the only part of the thought that manages the length from brain to mouth but Emma understands and Regina feels the sudden heat radiating against her lips.

She opens her eyes to the vision of Emma poised above her, offering her the perfect view of swollen flesh just waiting for her hungry mouth and she doesn't bother to stop the greedy little moan of wanton lust. She falls on to her back, latching on to hips and pulls Emma down. Emma smells just as good as she tastes and Regina moans again, swiping her tongue through folds and thrusting inside without warning.

Their eyes remain locked and Regina trails a hand from hip to chest, palming a breast as Emma rocks against her mouth. Emma leans back, fingers seeking and Regina cries out a moment later as they find her dripping sex, slamming into her and sending her arching off the bed. Emma smirks down at her and she narrows her eyes, tweaking a nipple between thumb and forefinger. The walls around her tongue clench in response and a small surge of wetness coats her chin, all pretense of challenge evaporating as she works at drawing out more of those juices.

Her need to devour, to claim every last drop makes her aware of the thought running through her mind. Emma is an addiction, one that will consume her if she isn't careful and already, there is a small part of her that knows it's far too late.

Again, she closes her eyes and the heady scent that fills her nostrils is intoxicating, more so even, than the taste of Emma overwhelming her mouth. Her legs fall open and she bucks her hips as fingers start up a rhythm, slow but increasing with each thrust until she feels as though she'll bruise with the impact.

Breathy little moans and soft sighs sound as music to Regina's ears, driving her towards her release faster than she thought possible and Emma grunts as she extracts her tongue. She smiles and licks a path from entrance to clit, taking the bundle of nerves between lips and sucking.

Her hands drop from hips to ass, palming firm mounds and kneading, the fingers pumping in and out of her losing their momentum as Emma grinds down on her mouth. "Fuck," Emma gasps as teeth graze her sensitive nub and Regina's stomach knots at hearing the expletive, muscles tightening around the now still digits inside of her.

Her lids flutter open and she sucks harder, willing Emma to let go for her, wanting to witness her experience of reaching that ultimate high. Her eyes gaze up at the blonde, passed the groomed thatch of fine hair, over the lean plane of a stomach and between full, perky breasts to the exposed throat. Head thrown back, Emma is lost to the pleasures of Regina's mouth, back snapping taut in the next moment as she comes with a silent cry.

Emma flips over on to her back, a breathless laugh escaping her as Regina makes a clear sound of disapproval and follows. Crawling up her limp body, Regina hovers above her with a self-satisfied smirk and Emma laughs again. _If arrogance suits anyone_ , she thinks, _the former Evil Queen and Mayor of sleepy little Storybrooke is it._

"You look pleased with yourself," she murmurs and the smirk widens into a full-blown grin as Regina lowers her head to capture lips. Emma groans, tasting herself on the tongue that worms its way inside her mouth as the kiss immediately deepens. Her body is recovering far quicker than it has any right to and she lifts her hands, one cupping the back of a neck to keep Regina in place while the other grasps a hip and tugs the lower half of their bodies together.

They both pause when a knock sounds at the door and Emma growls deep in her chest as Regina lifts her head. They could have continued indefinitely and whichever of the two men were interrupting them would have waited. She slides the hand from the hip down, slipping beneath the pencil skirt and grasping warm flesh, grinning as dark eyes flutter shut and she calls for their intruder to enter.

"Oh, apologies Mistress Swan," Richard says and Emma tilts her head back to look at him just as he turns his back to them. "There is a man requesting your presence; a Mr Gold."

"Who?" Emma asks with a frown at the same time Regina releases a growl of her own.

"He owns the local pawn shop," Regina answers, tone full of venom. "He is also the former owner of this cottage and a constant thorn in my side."

"Well then I should go and meet him," Emma replies all too happily, flipping Regina on to her back with a chuckle as the brunette glares up at her. "There's no need for that, Madam Mayor; you wait here and I'll be back to ravish you in no time. I am nothing, if not an accommodating host."

"Hostess," Regina corrects without thought, sighing as the habit borne from maternal instinct receives a smirk.

"Correcting my grammar already," Emma teases, "how dreadfully marital of you."

* * *

"Ah Mr Gold," Emma drawls, stepping on to the porch and offering her hand to the man in greeting. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

She notices immediately that her words have thrown him off and she grins, content to keep it that way as he shakes her outstretched hand. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Swan," he replies, snapping quickly from his surprise. "I take it by this delightful little greeting; you're familiar with who I am?"

"It's a small town; one is bound to hear things," she answers flippantly. Up until two minutes ago, she hadn't even heard of the man but knowing Regina isn't fond of him is enough for her to be nothing more than civil. She's uninterested in making friends, even less so with those disliked by the woman she is enamoured with.

"Good things, I hope." He smiles and she does her best to resist the hair-raising shiver that it sends down her spine.

"Exactly the opposite," she says, her grin widening a tad as she witnesses his smile falter despite the quick recovery that follows. "How may I be of service?"

"I simply wished to ensure you were satisfied with your purchase," he answers and she tilts her head, sensing the annoyance that he tries to cover with his next words. "What is more, I thought it common decency to welcome the new residents to town—though I must say, you are a rather difficult person to find, Miss Swan."

Already tired of his act and wanting to return to the woman awaiting her, she drops the façade and responds, "I would think as a business person yourself, you're aware of the hours one must put in to maintain order. While I suppose a small business in this little hamlet leaves one with ample opportunity to scour the town for a complete stranger in the hopes one might introduce themselves, some of us are much less fortunate. If that is all, then I must bid you farewell as I have more important things to be doing."

"Yes," he confirms, sounding far too amused by her dismissal than anything, which only irritates her further. "I believe I know what I wished to. Do send the Mayor my regards, Miss Swan."

Her eye twitches at the certainty in his tone, nostrils flaring in response to the smug look he wears and she resists lunging across the space between them to tear him a new one, waiting until he returns to his car before she steps back into the house and slams the door with a growl. It is the thought of Regina waiting that has her descending the stairs to her room and not further injuring Michael to work through her anger, calming as thoughts of the brunette flutter through her mind and her mouth recalls the taste of all that power that thrums within the woman's veins.

"I don't think he likes me," she states upon re-entering the bedroom, discarding her clothes as her eyes rake over the now entirely naked brunette.

"Neither did I," Regina replies, unnaturally pleased by the announcement _and_ the attention, as she adds, "to begin with."

Emma blinks, tilting her head in feigned thought as she comes to stand beside the bed. "Are you suggesting I use my charms and sleep with him?"

Regina licks her lips, eyes darkening as they roam every inch of the blonde's body. "Well, it couldn't hurt," she replies, a little hoarse as the sight has caused the arousal from earlier to flare once more.

"If it's all the same to you," Emma says, climbing on to the bed and straddling the brunette's waist, "I think I prefer my current bed warmer; she's much prettier."

"His loss..." Regina reaches up and clasps the back of Emma's neck, pulling their faces together as she adds, "…my gain," and connects their lips.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dislike the third scene... just so you know.

Three days without a presence you've grown used to seems like a long time, three _nights_ without that same presence warming the sheets of your bed is much longer. Emma received a call back to Boston on some sort of business and Regina has started to become antsy, although Henry distracts her during the day now that he actually _speaks_ to her. She still doesn't know what Emma has said to him but he's starting to treat her more like an actual human being, rather than the monster he believes her to be.

It's been just over a month since the small town increased in size and Emma is starting to receive notice. She overheard Ruby a few days ago talking about Richard and that 'strange blonde woman' he lives with—and almost laughed out loud at the hint of jealousy she detected in the waitress' tone. If only the woman knew Emma would most likely be more interested in _her_ than her chauffeur.

They still don't know what Gold is up to but for the most part; he's remained firmly at a distance from either of them. Henry, however, said the man had cornered him at the school gate about a week ago and she would have marched herself down to the pawnshop to warn him to stay away from her son, but Emma—for some unknown reason—talked her out of it. How she did so, Regina still isn't certain; she didn't consider the fact they were sleeping together reason enough that she start _listening_ to the blonde. She is the Mayor, the _Evil Queen_ who listens to no one and does whatever she wants—unless Emma asks her not to, apparently.

If she didn't miss the woman so much, she'd probably spend more time questioning the amount of control she allows Emma over her but at the moment, she just wants the blonde to return as her lack of focus is starting to affect her job. She doesn't know how long she's been staring at this same form beneath her hand, pen poised and ready to sign on the dotted line. What she does know is that she has no idea what the form is _for_ and whenever she tries to read it, the thought of Emma pops into her head and she loses herself to memories of their time together.

Letting the pen fall from her fingers with a frustrated sigh, she sits back in her chair and closes her eyes. Her office is silent except for the hum of the air conditioner, the sound peaceful in her ears. Her body both warms and relaxes when she allows herself a moment to appreciate the images, the memories that pass through her mind soothing the erratic thump of her pulse.

Ever since their night at the cabin, she finds that her thoughts and dreams are constantly occupied by the vampire; her perfect blonde curls, those amused pools of emerald and those soft, pale lips she wishes she could spend hours upon hours feeling their worship across her flesh as she has done almost every night since.

"Sleeping on the job, Madam Mayor? Tsk."

Her head snaps forward, eyes opening as she hears the familiar drawl, and then she groans at the sight of the spectral figure. "I believe I made my feelings on your interference in my life clear," she growls, head thumping back against the chair as the woman chuckles.

"If memory serves correctly, you told me to leave your house and never return," she reminds the brunette. "I have abided your wishes, as we are not in your house and as I have said, it is _you_ who calls to me; though your song has changed."

Brow furrowing, Regina stares at the shimmering form as the words play over in her mind and she tries to recall that first visit. She notes that the spirit's stance is different and the eyes—the eyes have a hint of emotion in them unlike last time when they appeared blank; empty as if they contained a void within.

"I have changed also," the spirit confirms and the faint quirk of her lips has Regina swallowing down on the lump in her throat. It is still a far cry from the Emma she knows, but that smile is almost—tender, affectionate. "It is no small thing… to bond with a nightwalker."

The unexpected comment causes her voice to rise in pitch as she questions, "Bond?"

A head tilts to the side, eyes studying her almost… curiously. "You allowed her to feed from you…" the blonde pauses and comprehension dawns on her features before she says, "Ah, but I see she didn't tell you what that means, for either of you. Interesting."

Regina closes her eyes again as confusion flares. "What the hell are you talking about?" she growls from between teeth, when confusion turns to anger at the thought of someone altering her in some way without her consent. "What has she done to me?"

"Oh, it's not _to_ you," the apparition replies in a dismissive tone. "No, she would never do something as irrevocable as change _you_ ; you're just who she wants, after all." Regina jumps as the last is said right next to her ear, but she refuses to open her eyes to what she knows is a smirking face.

"You are imprinted on her, my dear Queen," the woman purrs and Regina inhales sharply. "It now _pains_ her to feed from another, to be so far away from you. Your blood flows through her very veins, warming what was once a Cold. Dead. Heart."

* * *

Emma stands in the middle of the marble room, back ramrod straight as she stands at attention, where three members of the ruling Council look upon her. Michael is at her side on his knees like an obedient dog, serving as a reminder of why she hates what she is as she stares blankly across the wide expanse that separates them from the Elders.

"You have found people from our old world," the eldest of the three states, the power of his voice thrumming in the air above her head. "They are trapped?"

Even if she didn't want to tell them of the small town in Maine, the truth would have become known at some point and she is unsure of the punishment that would have come with it had she hid the information from them. She inclines her head in the affirmative and murmurs, "They are forced to live the same day over and over without memories of their past lives, never aging and never knowing the fate thrust upon them."

He nods thoughtfully and deliberates with the two at his side, their whispers sounding as nothing more than a buzzing sound in her ears. She looks down at Michael who wrinkles his nose as though he wishes to speak but is unable to do so and she grins lightly. He is not meant to draw attention and she knows it, which is why she returns her gaze to the three men in front of her and waits for them to finish.

When the Elder speaks once again, dread pools in the pit of her stomach. "As you are all too aware, our kind has long sought a way to return home, where we need not hide what we are—who we are, out of fear for being experimented on or worse, culled."

Her submission is already guaranteed, so it comes as no surprise to her when he finishes with, "You will end the curse as prophesised and return to us when it is done, and you will bring the witch with you."

With a bow of her head, she replies, "Understood, my Lord."

* * *

"Emma is home."

Regina raises her head from the book she is reading as her son enters the room, dropping his bag by the couch as he sits down next to her. She glances to the clock above the mantel and frowns at the time before she turns back to him. "Is that why you're back early?" she questions and he nods his head.

"She called while Richard and I were at the diner," he says and rummages through his backpack for what she assumes is his homework. "Ruby brought me home."

It's been two days since she received the visit to her office and she still doesn't know what to do about Emma. Her heart pounds against her chest and her stomach roils at the thought of harming the blonde, knowing the woman shouldn't be feeding from anyone but her, but at the same time, she's torn by the sudden responsibility that's been placed on her shoulders.

True, she had consented to Emma feeding from her and true, Emma had warned her there was a difference but had she known the extent of it, she might not have agreed so easily; never mind the fact Emma hadn't thought to provide any sort of clarification during, or afterwards.

"Mom?" Blinking at the sudden snap of fingers in her line of sight, she frowns reproachfully and Henry gives a sheepish smile as he apologises, "Sorry, you kinda spaced out. What's for dinner?"

Her frown deepens. "Didn't you just say you were at the diner with Ruby and Richard?"

"Yeah," he answers, drawing the word out. Regina detects the unspoken 'duh' that she knows Michael is responsible for before he adds, "But we had milkshakes, not food."

"I suppose then," she says as she stands, "that I will start dinner now; is there something specific you want?"

He shakes his head, but she knows by the look in his eye that there is _something_ he wants to ask and she hesitates, biting her lower lip while she waits. When a minute passes in silence, and then two, she considers forgetting about it and leaving the room but her curiosity wins out and she eventually asks, "Do you wish for me to call Miss Swan and see if she wants to join us?"

His eyes light up and there's a small pang of disappointment, yet she knows it's because Emma still refuses to return his affection rather than the fact he might consider the blonde a replacement of her. "You would do that?" he questions and she takes a calming breath before nodding.

"Cool," he says and turns to his homework on the table. She shakes her head and makes her way into the foyer where her cell phone lays on the hall table next to her car keys.

She sends the blonde a text rather than calls, afraid she won't know what to say. _Although I am at a loss as to how we might explain your lack of appetite, Henry has requested your presence for dinner._

Moving to the kitchen, she's a second from placing her phone on the centre island when it vibrates with a response. _Late lunch? ;) It's still a little light out but I can come over in about an hour._

 _An hour is fine, and the excuse will suffice… for now_ she types back before putting the phone down and setting about finding something to cook for the two of them.

At 6:15, there's a knock at the door and she's about to ask Henry to get it before she hears the murmur of voices drift in from the foyer. The familiar sound of boots follows a few minutes later and she turns her head in time to see the blonde lean against the doorframe. Emma is in a suit again and Regina's mouth dries at the sight.

Emma smirks knowingly and folds her arms as she crosses her legs, one ankle behind the other before she leans her head against the frame as well. Regina tears her gaze from the woman, forcing her concentration back on stirring the sauce as she asks, "How was Boston?"

"Lonely," Emma replies without thought. "How was the Mills House?"

Regina chuckles softly, not surprised by the implied lack of care for the rest of the town. "Mostly peaceful," she answers truthfully. Henry has improved his behaviour, but he still has moments where he falters and forgets whichever piece of advice Emma had given him that seems to work more often than not.

"Good." Regina stiffens, reminded of the moment in her office as the word is said right next to her ear. As the arms encircle her waist, however, she relaxes and leans into the hold as Emma informs, "That smells nice."

"We're having spaghetti and meatballs," she replies and frowns when Emma releases an amused huff. Lips press beneath her ear and she closes her eyes, appreciating the feeling that spreads through her before Emma corrects her assumption.

"I was referring to your scent," the blonde purrs and heat pools in the pit of her stomach as her core clenches.

"Oh."


	10. Chapter 10

Regina doesn't know when or even how the two of them end up in bed together and she can't bring herself to care about her apparent amnesia, not when there are teeth sinking into her thigh and all her blood seems to race down to feed the woman between her legs. Her stomach warms with arousal and a tingle much like when a limb awakens, but not nearly as unpleasant spreads through her, down to her sex where she feels her folds slicken with moist heat.

Blinking up at her ceiling, the weighted fog slowly lifts from her mind and the gentle swipe of a tongue along her slit causes her hips to rise. She clamps a hand over her mouth to stifle her moan, forcing her eyes down passed her breasts. A surge of wetness coats her thighs as inky black pools return her gaze, one hunger sated while another takes over.

Removing the hand from her mouth, she reaches down and slides her fingers through golden curls, biting her lip as the responding hum of approval causes vibrations, a strangled whimper desperately clawing at her throat and searching for an escape. She arches her back when Emma enters her with her tongue, welcoming the intrusion as her walls tighten around the probing muscle.

The last thing she can remember is leaving Henry's room to find Emma standing at the top of the stairs, an unfamiliar emotion playing within those telling emerald eyes. When she tried to question it, Emma had kissed her and all thought was lost in favour of losing herself to the lips she had spent three days being taunted with the memory of.

It infuriates her to think of how quickly Emma can derail her with the smallest effort, as though she has no will of her own. She wants to fight against it, knowing she should but no matter how hard she tries, she can't.

The whole night had started to feel wrong the moment she sat down to eat with Henry. It wasn't the awkward, tension-fused silence she thought it would be—it had been even worse than that. Conversation flowed smoothly, with Emma laughing and being almost downright affectionate towards Henry. Regina could honestly say she wouldn't have minded the change of attitude, except she was intimately familiar with falsity and Emma _reeked_ of it.

When she comes, it's quiet and she closes her eyes as her body goes rigid. She wants to cry out, to call Emma's name over and over, but her anger had started to build and by that point, there is very little pleasure she feels from it.

For a cold-blooded killer, she found Emma to be surprisingly clingy after sex but instead of crawling up beside her as usual, she knows Emma senses her mood when she rests a cheek against her stomach instead. In general, it isn't something she minds but with the way she feels at the moment, she likely would have shoved her on to the floor if she'd tried to hold her this time.

Minutes pass in silence before it occurs to her that maybe Emma is just as lost as she is, that it's more than possible she's simply waiting for her to ask what she needs to and with that in mind, she gathers her thoughts before she gives voice to the fear swirling around in her mind.

"Are you leaving me?"

It isn't the only, or even the first theory her mind has concocted since leaving the kitchen but it is the one she dreads the most. She doesn't care how long they've known each other, how absurd it is that their connection means as much to her as it does. The only thing that matters is whether she's wrong for thinking it.

Emma rolls from her side and on feeling the chin now pressing into her stomach; Regina opens her eyes and glances down at her. Emma gives a subtle shake of her head and she _almost_ allows the relief to wash over her, but she knows by the look on her face that she isn't far off.

"The Elders want me to break it," Emma murmurs after another minute and Regina inhales sharply, knowing exactly what _it_ refers to before Emma adds, "I didn't tell them that I can't, that I wouldn't even if I could."

Regina frowns. "What do you mean you can't?"

With a frown of her own, Emma pushes up from the bed and sits back on her heels, chewing her lower lip. "Henry said the only power strong enough is True Love's kiss…" she trails off, waiting until Regina confirms his claim with a nod before she explains, "My soul is trapped, but for all intents and purposes I'm dead; True Love comes from the heart and mine no longer beats in my chest."

_"Your blood flows through her very veins, warming what was once a Cold. Dead. Heart."_

Regina gasps before she can stop herself, slapping a hand over her mouth as she stares up at the blonde with wide eyes. Her frown vanishes with understanding, but Emma's deepens at her reaction.

"What?"

Shaking her head, questions bombard Regina's mind. If what Emma's doppelganger said were true, then wouldn't that mean she _could_ in fact break the curse? Did it not also mean that they are each other's True Love? More importantly, why doesn't Emma know?

"Your doppelganger said—" she starts, only for Emma to speak over her, "I'm sorry, my what?"

Curious now, and vaguely annoyed at the interruption, Regina drops her hand to the mattress with an irritated huff. "Your double, spiritual projection—whatever the hell you call it; she said our connection is changing you… healing you."

Emma blinks, her expression showing nothing other than confusion as she questions, "Spiritual connection, healing me? What are you talking about?"

Rising on her elbows, Regina stares, trying to read something beyond the bewilderment in emerald eyes but as the time ticks by, she finds nothing and drops back down. "You really have no idea," she chuckles, the sound dark while her tone is one of regretful disbelief. It's too late to take it back, to erase the conversation and leave Emma with her ignorance.

She would have thought it a cold day in hell when she would be the one to have her trust tested like this. Emma truly believes she can't break the curse, which means she had made her promise with that belief in mind. By revealing the truth, she could be providing the very means for her undoing.

"Do you hear music?"

Emma tilts her head and repeats her earlier question of, "What?" that causes Regina to sigh.

"When we're apart, do you hear music—a tune of some kind?" When a pale lip disappears between teeth again, Regina raises her hand, pressing her thumb against Emma's mouth and forcing her to release it as she growls, "You don't need to _think_ about answering the question, just answer it."

There's a brief, still moment of silence before Emma nods slowly. "Humming," she says, "constant, except when we're together."

 _The doppelganger hadn't lied about that at least_ , Regina thinks before she asks, "Do you know what it is?"

"You," Emma replies, running a hand through her hair in obvious frustration. "How do you know about that? No one knows about that—hell _I_ didn't know what it was until I went back to Boston."

"You visit me…" Regina pauses and Emma opens her mouth to speak but before she can, Regina corrects herself. "A _version_ of you visits me when you're sleeping. She said she was a projection of your consciousness, that my soul calls out to you, and that you're unable to resist it when you sleep."

When Emma shakes her head and moves from the bed, Regina panics and shoots up from her back as she snaps, "Where are you going?"

Emma stops and turns, forehead creased. "Nowhere I just…" She sighs and starts to pace beside the bed as she states, "That isn't a damn projection."

Confused, Regina questions, "Then what is it?"

"It's _her_ ," Emma growls, "the curse—the monster I become when I lose control."

Unsure how she is meant to respond to the information, Regina remains silent. Emma has never hidden the distaste she has in regards to her life as a vampire, so it comes as no surprise she appears annoyed that Regina has communicated with that side of her but she had started to think Emma was oblivious to these visits they'd been having and her apparent understanding is confusing her even more.

"We're not supposed to dream," Emma explains after a few minutes. "But I thought that's what it was and figured that maybe I was just different—a nightwalker who dreamed; it isn't _unheard_ of but it is rare enough that it's considered normal not to."

Thinking it sounds similar to what she's heard about lycanthropes and their human's disconnection while shape-shifted, Regina questions, "You mean you remember her visiting me?"

"No, it's not a memory or an out of body experience—whichever you're thinking." Dropping back down to the bed, Emma lies on her back, staring up at the ceiling as she speaks. "I see things when I sleep, but when I wake up a lot of it is missing; it's just like a normal dream and… Did she visit you when I was gone?"

Regina hesitates but when Emma glances at her, she gives in and replies, "Yes."

Emma nods, answering the question Regina wants to ask before she can. "When I woke up... 2 days ago? something felt _wrong_ but I couldn't figure out what it was so I forgot about it," she says, turning on her side to face Regina. "I remember she said something about feeding from you, which is _partially_ true; it doesn't hurt me to feed from someone else it just—disgusts me—but that wasn't it."

"She also implied that my blood was restoring your heart," Regina informs her and Emma laughs.

She frowns, wondering if she should be offended that Emma somehow finds the idea amusing. Despite her worrying over the possibilities of what it would mean for the two of them at the time, the thought that she could be the one to break the blonde's own curse hadn't lacked in appeal.

She startles out of her indecision when Emma brushes the tip of a finger across her mouth. "I didn't mean to make you pout," she teases and Regina narrows her eyes, moving her head out of reach as she glares down at her.

The smile only widens, drawing her attention to the one thing that _didn't_ appeal to her, which is the permanent loss of those magical teeth. Never getting to experience the things Emma made her feel—the unbelievably arousing high, the complete calm that overcomes her mind when Emma feeds from her—would be an extreme risk to her sanity.

"It's an echo," Emma states, chasing the thought from her mind with her voice and transforming her glare into a look of perplexity. She laughs again, it's softer but equally just as annoying before she elaborates, "Our souls can remember the things we feel from when we lived—you cause mine to echo a reminder of how it would feel to love you if I were alive."

Regina gasps, the sound catching in her throat and in less than the blink of an eye, Emma is behind her, arms gathering her in their embrace as her cheeks become wet with tears. "I _definitely_ didn't mean to make you cry," she murmurs and Regina's choked laughter is the one that surrounds them this time.

After a short time, when the tears cease and with a small smile, Regina rests her temple against a cheek as Emma settles a chin on her shoulder. In combination with the feeding, the sex and conversation, crying seems to be the point at which her body draws the line and she feels exhausted.

* * *

Emma smiles as Regina slumps in her arms, noting the slight change in breathing that signals sleep. Their first night together, she had memorised each little sound, and when she hears the small murmur, she rearranges them until she lies on her side beside the brunette who she carefully slips beneath the covers without waking.

If there had been one thing she missed above all else during her three days in Boston, it was this. Regina knows she watches her sleep and she hates it, but it's never once stopped Emma. It's the only time she ever gets to see what peace looks like on the once Evil Queen and each time is somehow more beautiful than the last.

Raising her hand, she places her palm on a warm, olive cheek and her smile widens at the sound of the little content sigh that escapes as she strokes a cheekbone with her thumb. The monster may not be able to love Regina, but she was no match for Emma's soul, the part of her who cherishes every moment they spend together.

"I do love you," she whispers with all the conviction she can muster. Leaning in, she presses a kiss to the corner of a mouth that tilts upwards in response and adds, "As much as I am able and for as long as you'll let me."

There's another sigh as she wraps her arms around Regina and she settles in for the wait, watching the digits on the alarm beside the bed tick from one minute to the next. It will be hours before dawn arrives, but somehow it doesn't feel anywhere near long enough to erase those three days of wanting and missing something she never would have known she needed if not for the little boy down the hall.

* * *

At exactly 4:30, Emma forces herself to disentangle the limbs from around her, their positions having changed a number of times since Regina fell asleep. There isn't a single bone her body that doesn't hate her for it and not for the first time, she loathes what she is when the brunette rolls over, a hand reaching out for the return of her warmth.

The whimper that came when her search failed is all Emma can think about as she traipses downstairs, Regina's scent lingering on her clothes and reminding her of what she's leaving behind as she retrieves her jacket with a scowl.

Logically, she knows if she stays, she'll risk more than just Regina being annoyed with her in the morning. She'd done it once before, thoughtless to her own safety and she'd had to spend an hour or so the next night listening to Regina ranting about what would happen if Henry caught them, which was made worse when she pointed out the fact sunlight could actually kill her.

Regina had forced her to promise not to do it again, after calling her an idiot for exposing herself to the possibility of contracting an often-fatal sickness and had then expressed her gratitude in far more pleasant ways—there were far less insults involved and maybe a little more yelling, but good yelling.

Staring at the bold 108 on the now-closed door to the mansion, Emma sighs. "Ah, Miss Swan; I was hoping to catch you." She whirls around at the voice, surprise and irritation locked in a battle for which she feels more strongly as she comes face to face with the creepy pawnbroker.

 _Rumplestiltskin,_ she reminds herself with a grimace. "What do you want, Gold?"

"You sound tired, dearie; is our illustrious Mayor so heartless that she forces the mother of her son to walk home after she's done with her?" He smiles throughout his taunting and she almost— _almost_ gives in to her desire to lunge the distance between them and rip his throat out with her bare hands.

Instead, she swallows the desire and counts backwards from ten; a 'trick' taught to her while she had still been human, foster parents having lived in some sort of delusional fantasy where they believed a month of anger management classes could fix a thirteen year old orphan with abandonment issues and a giant chip on her shoulder.

It rarely ever worked then, but she _is_ tired and really, there isn't a brain cell in her head that thinks he's worth the effort. "I fail to see how my business with the Mayor is any of your concern," she replies and his smirk is almost enough to make her reconsider her restraint.

Glancing up at the sky, she knows she has little time left to waste and with one last look to dark windows on the second floor; she shakes her head and turns on her heel. "Always a pleasure, Mister Gold," she throws over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes.

"She isn't who you think, dearie; whatever she has you believing is a lie," he calls after her and she laughs, the sound eerie in the quiet, early hours.

Grinning to herself, she raises her voice and calls back, "That's what you think, _Imp._ "


	11. Chapter 11

Regina sits at a booth in the corner of the diner, a permanent smirk fixed to her lips as she overhears pieces of conversation occurring between Richard and Ruby. Michael sits across from her, also listening in on the two and she admits to herself that it isn't the conversation that delights her, but the telling scowl plastered across her companion's face.

Emma had told her of his poorly hidden infatuation when it comes to the chauffeur, this not being the first time she's caught the werewolf brooding all by his lonesome. She had decided the moment she spotted him on her way in that she would join him, thinking it might amuse her if she were to witness his silent sulking up close and personal, where she can privately tease him should it suit her mood.

"This is really quite sad," she comments idly and he manages to tear his eyes away from the two lovebirds to offer her a glare. Naturally, she ignores it. "You need to find someone to take your mind off it, I'm sure Graham would volunteer if you showed some interest."

Puzzlement replaces irritation and he frowns as he questions, "The Sheriff?" She hums an affirmative as she stares out of the window at nothing specific, wondering how much longer she will have to listen to the waitress' inane giggling before her lunch arrives.

"I hadn't pegged him as someone who enjoys the company of other men," he says and she looks back at him with her eyebrow raised.

"Well not everyone can pull off pink quite the way you do, dear," she responds, her amusement sparking once more when the glare returns and he folds his arms as he slumps back against the booth. She waves dismissively and adds, "He's much less open with his preferences, but I know for a fact he enjoys both—ask Jefferson if you don't believe me."

His eyes narrow in suspicion and she smiles sweetly. "Damn, woman; is there a man left in this town you _haven't_ slept with?"

She laughs, which surprises both of them. If anyone else, barring Emma, had asked her such a question, she'd be offended and would quite possibly start plotting a way to get revenge on them.

As she is growing accustomed to him and his striking similarities to the blonde, she simply shrugs and replies, "There is a significant lack of worthwhile options in this town, believe me; Graham and Jefferson were merely the most appealing in an uninspiring collection."

"Way to sell the men of your town, Madam Mayor."

She smirks, rolling her eyes as she says, "At least _they_ are obtainable, De'Markus."

His face contorts with a grimace. "Don't call me that. I tormented Emma for weeks because you called her 'Miss Swan' by accident; she'd never let me hear the end of it."

They both fall silent when Ruby bounces over with her order and in a show of solidarity, Regina sniffs distastefully in response to the woman's greeting as Michael commences scowling. When she backs away without another word, he grins across the table and informs her, "I'm starting to like you, Mayor Mills."

"I can't say the feeling's mutual," she drawls wryly, an obvious lie as she returns his grin.

With a muttered, "Uh huh," his attention is drawn to the sound of the bell above the door and his expression turns thoughtful. Glancing over her shoulder, Regina chuckles and turns back to him with a knowing look.

Graham appears at her side, offering his usual greeting. "Madam Mayor," he says and she inclines her head.

"Graham, Michael – Michael, Graham; I believe you two have met," she says, slipping from the booth with her usual grace.

"I need to return to work but why don't you take my seat, Sheriff and keep Michael company," she suggests but they both know better and he sits without comment, eyes downcast. He misses the smirk she flashes Michael, who shoots her another glare before she turns on her heel and leaves the diner.

She ponders her newfound role as matchmaker all the way back to town hall and pauses just shy of entering the building as she fishes her phone from her pocket, firing off a text to the werewolf informing him he owes her lunch.

Hand on the door to her office, she glances down as her phone vibrates with a response.

_I'll do you one better, Madam Mayor - dinner at the cabin, you can surprise your ladylove._

Smiling, she shakes her head and slips the phone back into her pocket as she pushes into her office. When she looks up, the smile drops from her face, replaced with a scowl much like Michael's as she snaps, "What the hell do you want?"

* * *

Emma senses the presence in her room when she wakes and she breathes in that familiar scent. "Regina," she rasps in a voice hoarse with the depth of sleep she had found earlier that morning. She wants to ask what she's doing here but the moment she opens her eyes, her sight is immediately drawn to the expanse of a bare, olive-toned back and her mouth refuses to budge beyond the dry swallow she gives.

"I spilled my wine," Regina explains as she turns with a faint smile. "Michael said you wouldn't mind if I borrowed a shirt."

When she registers the words and seeing nothing in her hands, Emma slips from the bed and disappears into her closet, not missing the small hitch of breath that comes when Regina realises she sleeps in the nude, and smirking to herself as she scans her selection of dress shirts.

There are hands on her hips long before she comes to a decision and as the arms slide around her waist, she leans into the warmth. Regina had apparently come to a decision of her own and rather than the coarse feel of lace she expects, she feels nothing more than the press of soft flesh against her back and sighs appreciatively.

"I received a visitor this afternoon," Regina purrs into her ear and Emma frowns, trying to wrack her mind for pieces of a dream she may have had before Regina provides an explanation for the reason she is unable to remember anything pointing to another 'projection' _._

"Rumple is rather livid that you know of the curse and still believe me worthy of your more favourable attention," she chuckles, fingers aimlessly wandering the length of her stomach.

"Oh that," Emma replies, inwardly sighing in relief. She hadn't given it much thought at the time but upon returning to the cabin, she had wondered if Regina would be upset with her for revealing her knowledge to the man—assuming correctly that he would confront her sooner or later.

"I figure you have good reason for doing so," Regina murmurs and Emma turns in the embrace, taking the arms around her and lifting them to her shoulders before placing her own around a waist.

"He was trying to poison me against you," she confesses, pulling Regina in tight against her. "It was either that or attacking him and that seemed like too much wasted effort."

Those dark red lips quirk with a smile and Regina leans in, capturing her mouth in a slow, tender kiss. Emma hums into it, noting the difference from all the other times the two of them have come together. Mingling in with the usual passion and foreboding sense of more should they choose not to part, there is certain awareness in the kiss that excites her and she deepens it.

Regina moans, parting her lips in response to the swipe of tongue and Emma submerges them both in a world of sensation, their gaze locking on to the one another as she slides her hands down from Regina's back to glide over the firm mounds of her ass.

She dislikes that Regina is still wearing trousers, but provides the fact very little thought as she picks her up and guides them to the nearest wall. Pressing the brunette against it, she reaches behind herself to remove the heels digging into her back and when she breaks the kiss to trail lips over a jaw and down a neck, Regina rubs against her stomach and releases another moan as Emma latches on, nibbling and sucking the pulse that speeds up beneath the attention.

Pleasure becomes frustration in the form of a growl when she stops suddenly and lifts her head.

"Henry?" she questions, having just realised it is far too early for him to be in bed, which generally meant he would accompany the brunette.

Regina shakes her head, grabbing a fistful of blonde hair and forcing the mouth back to her neck as her throat rumbles with a response. "Sleepover," she murmurs and sighs softly when Emma resumes, sucking her neck while strong hands massage her backside.

After several minutes, Emma moves to her collarbone and her head falls back with a dull thump as the lips descend further, trailing between breasts where they spend a pleasurable amount of time proving their devotion to Regina.

What Emma sometimes lacks in patience, she more than makes up for with her ability to make Regina feel worshipped and the feeling is only intensified as she remembers those words from last night. While she may have lost her chance at True Love, the way Emma makes her feel doesn't seem like a consolation prize and she can almost believe that everything in life had been worth getting to this point.

Removing her arms from the blonde's shoulders, she reaches between them and leverages herself against the wall, sex pressing into the muscles of Emma's stomach and causing another moan to slip free as she removes her belt.

When the thud of the buckle hits the floor, Emma lowers her down and takes over, popping the button of her slacks and pushing them passed her thighs. Regina blinks down at her as she drops to her knees, fingers curling in the waistband of her panties, and her hips jerk when she feels the warmth of Emma's breath on her pussy.

"Do you need to feed?" she questions and Emma glances up at her with a shake of her head as she leans in, hands stroking the length of her calves before grasping the backs of her knees.

Regina gasps when she feels her feet leave the floor, back sliding against the wall as Emma positions her on her shoulders and with a smirk, dark emerald eyes return to the apex of her thighs and Regina swallows in anticipation for the tongue that licks across pale lips.

She sighs softly, content to have the mouth on her as she tangles a hand within blonde hair. Despite not being where she wants it most, the kiss Emma places on her thigh hardly causes her arousal to recede and she arches slightly.

Revelling in her scent, Emma buries her face between thighs with a hum as nails dig into her scalp, parting folds with the broad stroke of her tongue and grinning as Regina squirms against her mouth. She glides a hand up over a thigh, positioning it on the brunette's stomach and enjoying the feel of muscles as they tense beneath her fingertips.

It doesn't take long for slickness to coat her chin, and she laps at the juices greedily before thrusting her tongue inside in search of more. She closes her eyes as the cry of pleasure fills her ears; lust, adoration and love seeping into mind, body and soul as Regina settles a hand on the back of the one on her stomach.

"Emma," she breathes; the sound heady, wanting as she begins to gyrate hips, grinding against lips and tongue with almost wild abandon.

Emma loves her like this; vocal in her pleasure even when her body is so responsive that it would be impossible to deny the effect Emma has on her. She doubles her effort, intent on driving Regina straight to the edge where she plans to push until the only way her name escapes those lips is with an ear-piercing scream.

Regina bucks especially hard when she nibbles her folds, fist clenching noticeably in Emma's hair as mild pain radiates from her scalp before straightening, fingers pressing into her head encouragingly as she wraps her lips around the swollen bundle of nerves, tongue flicking nonsense patterns over and around the hardened nub.

Her name starts to fall in panted breathes and strangled gasps, and if she sucks for a split-second too long, there's a small hint of a whine at the end of the _a_ when Regina moans. Her plea for more is clearer, a short husky demand that causes Emma to instantly comply and she slips the hand from her stomach, entering the brunette with two fingers in one swift motion.

"Mmm faster," Regina moans and Emma flicks her clit rapidly with the tip of her tongue as she speeds up her thrusts, delving deeper.

As thighs flex around her head, she pulls out and pushes back in with three, stretching and slamming into Regina as her mouth clamps down on the bundle of nerves.

Regina comes, name tearing from her throat in a long, drawn out scream that has Emma believing in the possibility of the dead emerging from their graves and when Regina slumps, the full-weight of her body resting on Emma's shoulders, Emma gently removes her fingers. She carefully slips out from beneath the legs before lowering Regina to the ground, chuckling softly at the thought.

Sitting with her back against the wall, she smiles as Regina curls against her, one arm laying limp in her lap as she rests her head on Emma's shoulder and continues to twitch with the aftershocks of her release.

"We really need to do this more often," Regina comments the moment her breathing is under control and Emma can't help but laugh.

"I'm pretty sure we do it almost every night," she replies, though after a moment of thought she concedes, "However, I suppose I do have those three days to make up for." Regina hums in what Emma assumes to be agreement and she presses a kiss to a sweaty forehead, letting her lips linger as Regina sighs happily.

When she feels the arm in her lap shift, fingers slipping between her legs, Emma lays her cheek on the top of Regina's head and raises a knee to her chest. Slim digits play lazily along her folds, coaxing the dampened heat in the pit of her stomach to reignite with an agonizing slowness.

Another time, another place and she'd give considerable thought to voicing a complaint but rather than bother her, she feels her body warming at the absent-mindedness of the ministrations. She knows from listening to her breathes, that Regina is on the cusp of falling asleep and somehow that makes what she's doing more intimate. She isn't _trying_ to get Emma off, yet her body wants to return the favour even when her mind hasn't quite caught up to the plan.

Pressing her palm against the back of the hand, she guides the fingers into her folds to her clit. Regina moans and Emma knows she's watching as her own hand slides further down, entering herself as fingertips dance skilfully over the bundle of nerves.

Her head falls back against the wall and she closes her eyes, exhaling through her nose as the whisper of lips ghost across the curve of her breast. "I should be doing that," comes a husky murmur and Emma releases an agreement of her own in the form a sound caught somewhere between a hum and moan as she starts up a rhythm of thrusts.

She could wait, and thinks she probably should but the thought of Regina touching her while she gets herself off is—unbelievably arousing and not something she's willing to stop now that she's on her way to what promises to be a satisfying end if what she feels is any indication.

"We're you close?" Regina questions and Emma chuckles at the same time she moans, the brunette's voice deeper than she can remember ever hearing before.

"Not particularly," she admits, smile coming to her lips as Regina tilts her head back to look up at her, eyes hooded, an expression so obviously wanting that Emma briefly loses command over her own body and she lowers her head without conscious thought, connecting their lips.

The unladylike grunt of approval is all the motivation she needs to continue kissing her as she feels the pressure on her clit increase, fingers pumping in and out without falter as a tongue slithers into her mouth.

Regina invades her every sense; the scent of lavender in her nose and the taste of mulled red wine on her lips, the feel of tight circles rubbing her clit with clear intent as images flash behind her eyelids and Regina moans against her mouth, the sound almost continuous in her ears.

Emma gasps, "Oh fuck," when Regina's fingers drop to join in with her own and she slams into her on a downward thrust, stretching her and pushing down on her clit with the palm of her hand.

The pleasure is overwhelming in intensity and for an indiscernible moment in time, she teeters in the limbo between peak and release. "Come for me, Emma," Regina murmurs, teeth tugging at her lower lip. "Come for your Queen." Her hips rise from the floor, back snapping taut as she cries out, coming hard, and obeying her Queen as she coats their hands with the slick, wet heat.

* * *

When the two make an appearance upstairs, it's obvious that Michael and Graham are hitting it off. Emma shelves the plethora of possible embarrassment opportunities for the time being and allows him his fun, wiggling her fingers in both greeting and farewell before she grabs a bottle of wine from the table, drapes Regina's coat over her arm and leads the brunette from the cabin by the hand.

Realising what Emma is doing, Regina forgoes any sort of protest, content to go along with whatever she might be planning for the two of them as they wander passed the treeline into the forest. She leans against the blonde when Emma wraps an arm around her waist, her heels clearly unsuited for traipsing through a forest in the dark.

She trusts Emma not to get them lost and after a few minutes of careful guidance, they emerge into a small clearing. She is immediately drawn to the pond in the centre, the sliver of moonlight shining down on the surface mesmerising and causing within her a sudden desire to sit down.

Emma places a hand on her arm when she moves to lower herself down, smiling as she removes her jacket and places it on the ground, nodding her head when Regina glances to her in question.

"It isn't too cold," she says even as she slips Regina's coat over the brunette's shoulders. "Not to me, anyway," she adds and Regina takes her at her word as she sits, feeling the warmth of Emma emanating from the jacket beneath her.

"My chivalrous knight," she murmurs, causing a grin to appear on pale lips as Emma takes a seat next to her.

"Far more preferable to being the Savior," she comments, leaning in to press a quick kiss to a cheek. Popping the cork on the wine, she explains, "Less responsibility, an oath of fealty sworn to none but my Queen; I can live with that."

Regina hums, snatching the wine from her hand and raising an eyebrow when Emma frowns at her. "I don't recall any oaths being sworn," she says, taking a sip and sighing softly as she enjoys the smoothness of it caressing her throat and warming her stomach.

Blinking back surprise when Emma shifts to a knee, Regina's lips part as the blonde casts her eyes to the ground and recites, ""I do hereby swear that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty, Queen Regina. I will defend her to the utmost of my power against all traitorous conspiracies and attempts whatsoever which shall be made against her person, Crown or Dignity..."

Emma lifts her gaze, smirks and finishes with, "…and yada yada yada."

Rolling her eyes, Regina swats her shoulder. "Not only am I fairly certain that was an awful rendition of England's pledge of allegiance, but you do know at some point, I'm going to make you do that for real as payback."

"I'm surprised you haven't already, to be honest." With a shrug, Emma moves until she's sat behind the brunette and she rests a chin on her shoulder as she teases, "I mean you have started referring to yourself as the Queen while we have sex so…"

"You like it."

Emma laughs. "I love it," she corrects, nuzzling into her neck and sighing as the smell of lavender combines with that of the forest; all dirt and trees, and the well-known scent that signals the approaching rain, if she's not mistaken.

Passing the bottle to her, Regina nestles back into her warmth and Emma smiles before setting it between the brunette's legs as she says, "So… the Sheriff, huh?"

"Mmm," Regina hums, staring out over the pond. "His moping was starting to depress me."

Nodding in understanding against her shoulder, as Emma too had started to find Michael and his pining for a straight man tiresome, she asks, "Who was Graham—in your world, I mean?"

"The Huntsman."

"Wow," Emma exclaims with a chuckle. "You set up the boy raised by wolves, with a werewolf… that—that is fitting and somewhat evil."

"Pity…" Regina sighs, feigning the disappointment that laces her tone as she pouts and says, "I was trying to be amusing."

"That too," Emma concedes, rolling her eyes fondly and enjoying the unexpected childishness Regina is displaying in the moment.

"Good," is the response as Regina takes Emma's hands in her own and pulls her arms tighter about her body. Turning her head, she waits for Emma to look at her and smiles when she does, capturing her lips in a long, sweet kiss before she pulls back. "I would hate for you to no longer find me entertaining."

"Oh you're a riot," Emma whispers in a familiar drawl, breathes mingling in the barest of space between them. "Laughter, however, isn't the only thing keeping my attention." She closes the gap again, punctuating her meaning with a squeeze of hips and Regina moans into her mouth.


	12. Chapter 12

Overcome with a brief moment of confusion, Regina awakens slowly before a smile spreads across her lips. She turns in the arms about her waist, coming face to face with a sight she never thought she would have the privilege to enjoy. Her smile widens when she raises a hand, placing it gently on the blonde's cheek and feeling the warmth seeping into her palm.

She doesn't know the specifics of what happens when Emma sleeps, but a small part of her had been expecting cold when she touched her and she is pleasantly surprised to find that isn't the case. "She would love that," comes a voice from above them and Regina shifts so she can glance down the bed.

"What?"

The doppelganger smiles, eyes taking in the two of them cuddled together. "That look of adoration you wear," she answers with a tilt of her head. "Perhaps I should let her remember more of this."

"You can decide that?"

She nods. "She needed to talk to you, to explain things she never would have if I hadn't interfered. Emma is… closed-off and she finds it difficult to talk about what she is—who she is; so I let her remember the important things."

"You lied to me."

"No." She shakes her head and Regina wants to argue, but she doesn't give her the chance as she says, "I told you what she feels; you interpreted what I said to mean True Love. Perhaps, at one time, it could have been exactly that but now, it is a connection—one that I would claim transcends simple love, were I knowledgeable of such matters."

"You're incapable of love," Regina deduces and the blonde smiles, tapping her chest as she inclines her head.

"Without a heart, I am incapable of many things but I know what I see, and what she feels."

Regina smiles, eyes drifting back to the woman beside her. A question comes to her as she stares; thumb caressing the silken flesh of Emma's cheekbone as she asks, "Where are you, when she wakes?"

"I am inside of her, a passenger if you will. I am the rage, the anger and hate she feels for the world, for the people she calls Master—for Henry."

Somehow, Regina had known it was coming, yet her chest squeezes tight at the words and her eyes burn with the threat of tears. "She hates our son?" she murmurs, needing confirmation but at the same time, wanting nothing more than to forget the fact she had asked in the first place.

"Not quite," is the response and her eyes snap back to the woman, blinking back the tears as confusion takes over. "She is angry with him because he causes you pain. You may try to hide it behind your masks, but she can see you; the real you and she is close… so very close to hating the person he has become."

"He loves her," she whispers, knowing in her heart that it isn't enough even before the woman responds.

"She can see that too," she says, her smile sad. "But she cannot give him what he wants. You are the one she is connected to, not him and while she is eternally grateful to him for bringing her to you, she will continue to suffer as long as he hurts you."

"What am I supposed to do?" Regina asks, swiping the tears from her cheeks. "I don't want to lose her, but I can't lose my son."

"You already know the answer to that," she replies, pressing two fingers to her lips and blowing Regina a kiss before she shimmers out of sight.

* * *

Leaning against the fence outside Storybrooke Middle School, Michael groans to himself upon seeing the woman accompanying Henry to the gate. He knows the teacher is a friend of the waitress' and although he hasn't personally spoken to her, he's almost positive he isn't going to like her.

When Henry notices him, he smiles and runs ahead of her and before he reaches him, Michael answers the question he knows is about to come from the boys mouth. "Your mother asked me to pick you up," he says, raising a hand to halt the question about to slip free, as the lighting of the boy's eyes causes him to be highly predictable. "No, I am not referring to Emma."

His face falls and while Michael would normally feel somewhat guilty for causing the look that crosses his face, Emma has stated more than once that she would appreciate it if everyone refrained from encouraging him.

Before Henry can respond, however, a light, scolding tone draws their attention. "Henry, you shouldn't run off like that."

Turning to the schoolteacher, Michael forces a smile. "He's fine," he assures and sticks out his hand. "Regina asked me to collect him this afternoon as her meeting is running late; I'm his uncle, Michael."

"Oh!" she exclaims, shaking his hand as she returns the smile, though its obvious hers is of genuine happiness, which causes him to mentally roll his eyes—there were far too many bubbly people in this town. "I'm Mary Margaret Blanchard, Henry's teacher. It's nice to meet you, Michael."

He nods with a slight frown, trying to remember where he'd heard the name before. "You too, Miss Blanchard," he replies and then it clicks. Regina, Regina is the where the name came from, and he almost laughs out loud.

Yes, he is definitely not going to like her.

"Well," he says after a moment, clasping Henry on the shoulder. "I should get the kid home, I'm sure he has homework to do."

"That he does," she replies, beaming. "I hope to see you around more, Michael."

Not bloody likely, he thinks but he nods his head and waits for her to turn back towards the school before dropping the smile that had started hurting his cheeks, which is when he notices Henry is staring up at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Upbeat people annoy me," he says before wondering why he's explaining himself to a ten year old. "Quit looking at me like that and get in the car."

Henry mumbles something under his breath but otherwise does as he's told, which is reason enough as far as Michael is concerned to ignore what had no doubt been a smart-mouthed comment and instead of responding, he slips into the driver's seat and turns the radio on.

When they arrive at the cabin, it's only 4pm and as soon as Henry enters behind him, he's bombarded with questions. "When will Mom be here?" I have no idea. "Where is Emma?" She's downstairs. "Can I see her?" No, do your homework.

Henry pouts, Michael smirks and then the cabin is silent.

At around 4:30, Henry whines that he's hungry and Michael sends a text to his mother asking whether he's meant to feed him. There's no food in the house considering the owner, and he really isn't in the mood to go to the diner where he'll be forced to watch Ruby and Richard sucking face.

His phone vibrates a few minutes later and he looks down at it. _He'll ruin his dinner, I'll be there with something to eat shortly_ , is the brunette's response and he recites such to Henry who grumbles and turns back to his homework. It really is a wonder to him, that Emma has been known to spend the good portion of evenings with the boy without throttling him.

At 5:15, there's a knock at the door and he barely resists whooping in relief as he jumps from the couch and practically launches himself across the room to answer it. The number of bored sighs he had heard in the span of an hour had to be some kind of record.

"Never again," he says upon opening the door and Regina grins.

"He's cranky when he's hungry," she supplies and he rolls his eyes, taking the takeout bag from her hand and tossing it to the boy who immediately tears it open to get at the food.

"Huh." Removing Regina's coat, he hangs it up as he says, "That reminds me of Emma before…" He shrugs. "You know."

Regina nods, smiling as she replies, "I didn't know you've known her that long."

"Long story—a good one though; maybe she'll tell it to you some time."

"Not you?" she asks absentmindedly, attention quite clearly focused on her son.

"Mmm nah, she'd kill me," he laughs, shaking his head. "You wanna go get her?"

Her eyes snap to his and he wonders at the panic in her voice as she questions, "Is that wise?"

"She woke up half an hour ago," he replies, dismissing her tone for the time being. He glances to Henry to see that his attention is still on his food before he leans into her, lowering his voice as he murmurs, "She'll need to feed."

"Ah."

* * *

"Two days in a row," Emma speaks without looking up, pen scratching across the forms laid in front of her. "Must be my lucky week."

"How much do you remember?" Regina blurts out, the conversation that morning having haunted her every thought since.

Emma sighs, lowering the pen as she raises her head and replies, "Enough to know why you faked a meeting running late so Henry wouldn't ask questions about why you were bringing him to the cabin rather than taking him home."

Regina drops down on to Emma's bed, cradling her head in her hands as she says, "I can't do this."

"Then don't." Emma shrugs, providing the opportunity to back out though not without frustration as she says, "Stay for a while and when he falls asleep, I'll put him in your car and you can drive home. Maybe seeing you're not keeping him from me will make him act like less of a shit head."

Head snapping up, Regina glares and growls, "Don't you ever speak of my son like that again or so help me I'll…"

"You'll what, Regina?" Emma interrupts as she rises from her chair, pen clattering against the desk. She's beside the brunette in an instant, pulling her to her feet with a scowl. "You'll needlessly defend him, knowing I'm right? I want you to have everything you want, you are not happy and until you confront him; you never will be."

"I can't lose him!" Regina cries, fisting the material of the blonde's shirt and burying her face in the crook of her neck.

"You won't," Emma murmurs, folding her arms about Regina. "I know it's hard but he loves you, even I can see that. No kid likes being lied to and I know you're just trying to protect yourself, but somehow he figured it out and the longer you keep the truth from him, the harder it's going to be—on both of you."

"He'll hate me."

"Maybe," Emma admits softly. She can't lie, she knows how Henry feels about his mother being the Evil Queen and all too well, she remembers what it was like to be a kid, how easy it is to believe the world exists in black and white. "Maybe for a while he'll need time to adjust, but eventually he'll see that here, in this world, you're not her. You're his mother, the woman who raised him for his entire life, who loves him and would defend him—despite that on occasion he might… maybe… not deserve it."

When Regina sags against her, Emma pulls back and cups her face in her hands, thumbs tenderly stroking damp cheekbones as she leans in and brushes their lips together lightly. She feels the shuddered breath against her mouth before Regina presses forward, claiming her with a proper kiss while simultaneously trying to get closer as the hold around her waist tightens.

Distraction, she knows, is what Regina seeks as soft hands skim beneath her shirt, ghosting over her hips and up along her spine. She allows it for a time, enjoying the pierce of flesh as Regina drags nails down her back, moaning into her mouth when she retaliates by nipping a plump lower lip.

As one hand returns to settle between her shoulder blades, she trails her lips down to Regina's jaw, careful not to leave marks as she sucks the warm, olive skin and the second hand slides beneath the waistband of her shorts. She is wet, embarrassingly so and before Regina can make the discovery herself, she sinks her fangs into the pulsing vein of her neck.

Regina's mouth falls open with a sharp gasp, body jolting in surprise before she emits a long, guttural moan of pleasure. Emma wants to move, to grind her hips and encourage the hand to fall lower, to dip between her folds and work those skilled fingers over her clit until she comes.

Instead, she closes her eyes with a groan, restraining herself from reacting to the sound and the nails that dig into her pelvis as she focuses on taking more than she needs. Regina's blood is strong, tainted by her magic and far more intoxicating for Emma than any other.

Dizziness sets in quickly and she forces herself to retract her fangs before she loses awareness entirely.

Catching Regina before she can fall to the floor, she stumbles over to the bed where she sits, cradling the brunette in her arms as she buries her face in the crook of her neck.

Minutes pass in which she listens closely to steady breathes, a hand nestled beneath the maroon silk of Regina's shirt, fingers curling and flattening in time to the rise and fall of a chest. The hitch of a breath alerts her that Regina has returned and Emma smiles against her neck.

"That was…"

Emma hums knowingly and Regina shifts, bringing an arm up to hook around her neck as she turns her head and captures her mouth in a heated kiss filled with gratitude, lust—and maybe even love. Weakening a magic-user, while hazardous to the nightwalker, causes a prolonged sense of euphoric peace in their victim.

Breaking the kiss, Regina rests her forehead against Emma's temple with a sigh. "I'm tired," she murmurs as a thumb draws circles her stomach.

"I know, my Queen," Emma replies, knowing it'll wear off in the next few minutes and hoping Regina isn't too upset with her once she recovers all her senses.

The second she feels the body tense against her, she tries to provide a small amount of distance and remove her hand. Except, Regina appears to have other ideas as she clutches her wrist in a vice-like grip, refusing to let go until Emma slips it back into position and her thumb resumes its caress.

"What happens when we tell him, what do I do if he tries to find his father next?"

Emma swallows. She never had shared that story, uncertain it would ever come up in conversation between them. She supposes she should probably have prepared herself for it considering Henry likely has questions of his own. "He won't find him," she answers plainly.

Regina scoffs, the warmth of her breath hitting Emma's cheek as she says, "He found you."

Bringing their foreheads together, Emma places a soft kiss at the edge of her mouth. Not one to beat about the bush, she sighs before stating, "He's dead; I made sure of that."

"You…"

Emma nods, their noses rubbing together and causing her to smile as Regina closes her eyes at the feeling. "When I was released from prison, I spent two years searching for him because I wanted to know why he abandoned me," she explains, waiting until Regina opens her eyes again before she continues.

"The night before I found him, I was _chosen_ —which is a fancy word for being mauled in a dark alley and left to bleed out by a Sire hoping you'll survive and seek them out when hunger drives you to find answers."

Realising she's veering off from the story she intends to tell, Emma shakes her head. "When you're turned, for a while you're nothing more than a monster full of anger and hate. At first I wasn't interested in answers, all I wanted was revenge and I ignored the hunger—right up until I found the man who claimed to love me, and then left me, pregnant and in jail to pay for his crime."

"I found him in a bar." She laughs, receiving the rise of an eyebrow before she explains, "He was so drunk he didn't even recognise me, so I lured him outside and I killed him, drained every last drop of blood from his body—I almost died too."

Emma looks down as Regina shifts once more, eyes drawn to nylon-clad thighs as she straddles her lap and the short skirt rides up.

Fingers curl along her jaw, the nail of a thumb digging into her chin as Regina tilts her head back and leans in. Her voice is a low, husky purr that lets Emma know her appreciation of the sight affects Regina just as much as the sight itself affects her.

"What happened?"

Emma breathes in, looking into those lust-filled depths as she replies, "Magic… too much of it in the blood can kill us."


	13. Chapter 13

For a second that one would miss with a single blink, Regina appears horrified before there are hands pounding away at Emma's chest and shouts consisting of variations on the word "idiot" fill the room.

Torn between confusion and shock, Emma allows whatever is happening to happen. She deserves it, of this she is almost certain, she just can't figure out _why_ and what she is meant to do to fix it.

Regina can't actually harm her, though she does pack one hell of a punch and it isn't until she senses a third and fourth presence outside her bedroom door that Emma finally grabs her by the wrists to get her to stop.

"Henry," she whispers in warning and Regina immediately falls limp at his name, accepting the offer of shelter from prying eyes in the form of a broad shoulder and the long curtain of blonde curls in which she hides her face.

Clearing her throat, Emma raises her voice and calls out to the boy that it's okay if he wants to come in. It isn't, not really but they both know his discovery of them would happen sooner rather than later and if Regina isn't ready to reveal one secret, then she would have to suck it up and compromise with another.

The door opens as she turns her head and she dismisses Michael with a nod as Henry steps into the room. "What's going on? Why was Mom shout—"

"Henry," she interrupts the string of questions, patting the bed beside her in invitation, knowing that for the next few minutes at least, he'll do as she says. "We have something to tell you."

Regina shakes her head, pleading without words not to tell him and Emma sighs, palming the back of her neck in reassurance as she strokes the pulse beneath the pad of her thumb. Henry watches them carefully, his eyes betraying his thoughts as realisation slowly seeps into his expression.

Too late to back out now, she thinks with a sigh. "Your mother and I are dating," she states and the air suddenly feels thick with tension as she continues to watch, understanding replaced by disbelief, replaced by anger.

Looking away from him, she murmurs an apology to Regina, too quiet to be heard by any but the two of them. She knows what's coming, and as Regina sinks further into her embrace, she knows it's exactly what is expected.

"She's evil!"

He shouts, he rages, he calls Regina a murderer. He reminds Emma of her role as Savior—reminds her that she's supposed to defeat the Evil Queen and reunite with her family. She tolerates it all, grinding her teeth and holding tight to the woman in her arms who cries the silent tears she feels dripping on to her shoulder.

Her hate and anger grow steadily, fuelled by the trembling body against her own while his face contorts in distress as he carries on unchallenged, his tone slipping into one of appeal for her to see the truth, to believe and end the suffering of these people who tried to decide her fate for her.

If anything, she is convinced now more than ever and she silently vows to never awaken this town, closing her eyes to his face and her ears to his voice. Regina calms her. She would have killed him, snapped his neck after the first sentence to come spilling from his mouth if not for her.

Before she realises it, silence has fallen and her eyes snap open as she hears Regina call his name. Her head turns and she sees his back is turned to them, attempting to leave. She moves, rising from the bed and appearing in front of him as she slams the door.

Smiling, fangs extended, her voice is sickeningly sweet as she questions, "And where do you think you're going?"

"Emma…"

Her eyes flicker to the brunette as she speaks. "There is a lesson I tried to teach you the day we met," she says, setting her gaze back on the boy who stands frozen before her. "Do you remember what it was?"

He doesn't respond, but she doesn't expect him too. He is a child, willing to believe in fairy tales and happy endings, content to vilify the one woman who should be seen as a hero, having rescued this poor little boy from the horrors of the system she is all too familiar with.

Face to face with a true monster, the undeveloped brain of a human refuses to believe at first, tries to reason what is being seen as the body locks up with fear and the world comes crashing to a halt.

"I tried to tell you the world is more complicated than your silly story book makes it out to be."

Stalking towards him as she speaks, Henry manages to keep backing away until his backside hits the bed and she pauses, eyebrow raised as he then scrambles on to it and attempts to hide behind the woman he had just finished cursing. She smirks.

"Black and white is an invention of writers, used to tell the least imaginative stories in which _good_ continuously triumphs _evil_ even at the expense of making sense." Gesturing between herself and Regina, she questions, "In your mind, both of us are the villains, so why are you hiding behind your mother, hmm? In the face of the unknown, is she now suddenly good? Is this where your Evil Queen redeems herself by vanquishing the real monster?"

"Miss Swan," Regina growls, hand rubbing soothing circles against her son's back. "He is terrified; you've made your point."

"Have I?" Meeting his panicked gaze, she asks, "How long will it be before he convinces himself that a label is more important than the truth? I am a monster, yet I am the Savior."

She shakes her head, recognising the irrational flicker of comprehension trying to banish the fear in his eyes. "How long until he turns on you, the Evil Queen again, despite it being no more than a title that overrides who you are?"

Moving fast, she snatches the boy out from behind Regina and holds him up by the collar of his shirt. His eyes are wide, on the verge of tears as he stares, unmoving in her grip.

Regina shouts her name, telling her to release him, even going so far as to stand in an attempt to take him from her but Emma grabs her around the waist, holding him at arm's length.

"I won't hurt you," she tells him and she can feel his heart slow a beat. "Do you know why?"

For the first time, he responds to her words, shaking his head and she inclines her own towards Regina. "You mean the world to her... Do you know what it does to someone, losing the one who means the most to them?"

His voice is soft and he looks to his mother as he answers, "Turns them into an Evil Queen?" Emma laughs. It isn't the answer she wants, but it is fitting and until he grows up, it will be how he sees the world regardless of her words telling him otherwise.

"It can make them do bad things." She nods and adds, "Not always to other people."

Lowering him to the floor, she steps away from the both of them and watches as Henry moves hesitantly towards Regina.

"Mom?"

There's a small smile on her lips when she replies, "Little Prince?"

He lunges the rest of the distance, wrapping his arms around her torso and his muffled apologies sound from where his face presses against her stomach. "I know," she murmurs; threading fingers through his hair, smile widening as she looks to Emma.

* * *

After agreeing to answer the questions he has about what Emma is, Henry leaves the two of them for a few minutes and Regina turns on the blonde the second the door is closed. "I appreciate the result, but if you ever put your hands on my s—"

Emma rolls her eyes, grabs her by the hips and tugs her forward, silencing her words with the fusing of their mouths. Regina stiffens for an almost indiscernible second before she falls into it, unable to resist the soft press of lips as she brings her arms up and drapes them across shoulders.

Before she can deepen it, Emma pulls back with a smirk. "I know what he means to you," she says, slipping a dark lock behind Regina's ear. "But I also know when a trait of nature is overcoming nurture; he's as stubborn as I am."

Regina hums, weaving her hands through a thick mane and fisting blonde curls. Emma winces as she yanks her head back. "You mean stubborn as in refusing to drink from a source that won't kill you?"

Blinking, Emma forces her head down despite the pain and raises her eyebrow. "Is that why you were beating on me earlier?" she questions. Regina blushes and looks away, but gives a subtle nod, only for her eyes to snap back to Emma when she chuckles.

"Why is that funny?"

"Because you weren't listening," Emma replies, hands gripping tighter as Regina takes offense to the words and tries to move away from her. " _Draining_ you would kill me, feeding from you is harmless. Think of it like… binge drinking and alcohol poisoning."

"Binge drinking," Regina repeats, clearly unimpressed by the comparison.

Emma laughs and shakes her head, hands sliding from hips as she wraps her arms around Regina's waist. "You're addictive," she explains with a grin. "Drinking your blood makes me feel deliriously drunk and yes, too much is dangerous but in moderation it's fine."

"Oh so…" Bowing her head, she captures plump lips once more and steals the breath from Regina's lungs before breaking the kiss and repeating, "…fine."

"Thank you," Regina breathes with a sigh.

"For scaring the shit out of your son?" Emma teases, nuzzling the brunette's throat. "You're welcome."

"And for…"

Leaving the rest unsaid, Emma presses a kiss to her pulse. "It isn't my secret to tell," she says before releasing her hold and walking over to her wardrobe to find more outdoor appropriate outfit.

"Are you upset with me for not telling him?"

Thinking it over as she slides into a pair of jeans, Emma shakes her head as she selects a belt from the dresser. If the curse breaks, she knows the town will be open to visitors. "In the long run, I think it's better he doesn't know. It is safe here for him—for you, but the outside world; it's too dangerous now that my kind know you're here."

"You think they'd come here if they could?"

"I think they'd do a lot more than that," Emma admits with a shrug of shoulders. "They've been searching for a way back to the old world for centuries and I think _you_ are their best chance at getting what they want, which means—this is better."

Moving back to Regina, she presses a chaste kiss to lips and grabs her hand, leading her to the door as she says, "This town and their pitchforks I can deal with—the Covens and Brethren combined; I am neither delusional enough to think I'm that powerful, nor am I that suicidal."

Opening the door, she stops upon spotting Michael leaning against the wall outside her bedroom and she narrows her eyes at his grin. "Come now, you can be pretty suicidal."

"By the by Majesty," he says, following along behind them. "Your son and his questions… maddening."

"Don't you have something to do—or should that be _someone?_ The Sheriff, perhaps," Regina drawls, climbing the stairs as both Emma and Michael laugh.

"Am I being thrown out of the house by the ladylove?"

Entering the living room where Henry waits for them, Regina turns to address Michael with a glance to her son to emphasise her next words. "If you'd like to be subjected to more questions, feel free to stick around," she says and without delay, he shakes his head.

"I'm good, totally leaving like right now," he informs, pulling his jacket from the back of the couch and virtually fleeing out the door while Regina smirks, satisfied with his retreat.

Turning to Emma and Henry, she sees her expression mirrored on the blonde's face and chuckles, drawing the emerald gaze back to her from the closed door. "Shall we?" she questions, gesturing to the couch as her son occupies the lone chair in the room.

Emma nods but turns and makes her way to the cabinet of drinks, retrieving a bottle of whiskey and two glasses before she returns and places them down on the coffee table, within their reach should this questioning session turn into something resembling the inquisition.

If she knows anything, it is the thorough ruthlessness of curious children and while it won't intoxicate her, the whiskey combined with Regina's presence will keep her calm and Regina, at least, will be able to get as drunk as she likes.

"Alright, kid," she says, dropping to the middle of the couch. "You can ask whatever you want, but your mother has veto power if she thinks my answer will scar you for life. Deal?"

At first he looks like he wants to argue but upon reaching the reason, his expression of protest vanishes and when she finishes, he agrees with a nod. Emma smiles as she leans forward, pouring Regina a drink, which she then hands her before sitting back with a, "Go ahead."

"What are you?" Half expecting his first question to involve how many people she's killed, she takes a moment to rearrange her thoughts before responding.

"We're called Nightwalkers but you'd be more familiar with the term Vampire, though anything you think you know about those—just ask before you assume anything."

"Do you drink blood?" She smiles, amused that she had guessed his next question correctly and she inclines her head.

"Yes but not without permission and never enough to harm them." Regina nudges her with an elbow and Emma sighs before correcting the partial lie, "Usually it's never enough to harm them, but it can and does if we want it to."

His next, is of course whether or not she's killed someone and Emma waits, wondering if Regina will use her power to veto the question but after a couple of minutes, Emma realises that isn't going to happen and with an incredulous look to the brunette, she sighs.

"Yes," she replies and the two stare at her, clearly wanting elaboration, which is when she decides she needs a drink more than Regina and takes the glass from her hand.

Throwing her head back, she downs the entire thing minus the sip or two Regina had already taken before pouring another as she explains, "Being what I am, death comes with the territory—especially when you're young and even more especially, when you have as much power as I do."

She describes what she had already told Regina, about being a Mistress and what it means; that she killed her Sire. He interrupts, asking if a Sire is the one who turned her and she nods before going on to explain what her death meant in terms of what Emma was given in return.

"They rewarded you for killing her?"

Having thought the same thing herself for some time, Emma allows another smile. "I thought that once," she replies. "But eventually I learned that the amount of power you have determines how safe you are. With territory, comes people willing to protect you and only the most… ambitious will try to take what they want from you. Once you prove yourself worth what you have, that leaves only the less intelligent to try and in most cases; fail."

Sipping her whiskey this time, she watches the thoughtful expression on his face as he considers her words and after a few minutes in which he remains silent, she decides to make it easier for him and clears her throat.

When she has his attention, she admits, "There have been others, far more than I could be expected to keep count of. Like the books you're so fond of, war between Covens is inevitable and more often than not, there are casualties beyond the two sides fighting."

"Humans?"

She nods. "Some of us have what is most commonly known as familiars, humans who willingly serve us in whatever capacity we happen to require; a food source, servants—chauffeurs…"

Sex slaves, her mind adds as she glances over at Regina who happens to be eyeing her suspiciously. "What?"

"Your grin tells me there's something we'll be discussing in private later," Regina replies and the grin widens.

"If we must," Emma says with feigned resignation in her tone, smiling as she receives a slap to the thigh for her theatrics before she turns back to Henry.

"Are Richard and Michael familiars?" he asks, surprising her as he seems to have ignored her and Regina's banter—not that she isn't grateful, or that she would have been able to explain it without embarrassing the two of them.

"Richard is," she confirms. "Michael is my guard during the day and… sort of my brother."

"Brother?" Regina echoes, part curious, part disbelief. "How is someone 'sort of your brother' and how did I not know this?"

Emma scratches her head, a sheepish smile on her lips. "Never really came up," she answers with a shrug. "We were in foster care together when I was about eleven and he popped up a few times over the years until I was… bitten—after that he never really left."

"So he really is my uncle?"

Emma frowns at the term, wondering where he got the idea from before she thinks to ask. "Who told you he was your uncle?"

"Mary—my teacher," he corrects, seeing his mother's grimace as she snatches the glass back from Emma. "She thought he was a stranger and that's how he introduced himself to her when he picked me up from school today."

"Of course he did," she replies, rolling her eyes. Michael and his aversion to lying is almost as tiresome as Regina and that habit of calling her 'Miss Swan' whenever she's upset. "Any more questions? Aren't you interested in my superpowers?"

His face lights up and she breathes a sigh of relief as he launches into a new set of questions, taking them away from the least appealing topics and into what she enjoys most about what she is.

When he asks if she has super strength, she scoffs and responds by standing, lifting the couch without warning—with Regina still on it, which causes her to gasp and her son to start laughing. Emma admits to herself that the sound is kind of sweet, understanding the reason Regina simply stares at him with an adoring smile that she turns on Emma once she settles back down on the couch.

She admits to not knowing how fast she can run and promises to test it with him at some point, though she's not sure how that will work considering she can't be outside during the day and he likely wouldn't be able to see her in the dark—she chooses not to disappoint him by mentioning the fact, however.

Regina refuses to let her prove she has mind powers by making her do things against her will, which is fair enough, but she still pouts and even ropes Henry into teasing Regina until the brunette threatens to ground them both. Emma doesn't even want to consider what her grounding would entail, unwilling to give up any of the three things Regina can easily take from her that she's fairly confident she can never again live without.

By the time he runs out of steam, he's almost fallen asleep in the chair and Emma offers them a place to stay for the night when Regina admits to not feeling like driving home, dismissing the thought of offering to drive them herself because—that would be stupid.

* * *

Leaving Regina to put Henry to bed, Emma enters her own room and searches through her clothes for something for the brunette to sleep in. She doesn't have much in the way of sleeping attire, but she eventually finds a pair of silk pyjama bottoms and settles for a plain black tank top that Regina will probably refuse to wear.

Placing them at the end of the bed, she moves to her desk where the latest paperwork from Boston waits to be finished, and she settles into her chair to do just that, which is how Regina finds her about ten minutes later.

"What are you doing?"

Emma looks up with a frown, Regina having sounded suitably offended by something. She smirks at the expression to match the tone and asks wryly, "Do you need help dressing, or is there some other reason you're glaring at me?"

"I do believe we agreed to have a certain conversation." Regina pouts and as comprehension dawns on Emma, she adds, "Also, I'd much rather have help _undressing._ "

Emerald eyes darken and in an instant, Emma stands before her with a grin, the sound of her pen hitting the floor a second later as she reaches for the buttons on Regina's blouse.

Regina sighs softly, loving the feel of the hands that slip into the opening of her shirt, fingertips caressing up her sides and over her shoulders. Emma pushes the shirt to the floor, sliding behind Regina as she palms her chest, pressing lips beneath an ear before she murmurs, "We have another use for humans."

"Do tell," Regina purrs, head falling back against a shoulder, feeling her nipples harden as the hands knead her breasts.

Emma smiles, tongue flicking an earlobe before she sucks it into her mouth. Regina huffs and Emma releases it with a chuckle as a hand grabs one of her own, forcing it down a smooth, flat stomach and beneath the waistband of black slacks.

"Impatient," she tuts, nipping a shoulder as she cups her sex.

"I used to have another familiar," she murmurs, rubbing the tips of her fingers along wet lace. "Cute little red-head named Miranda who'd rush home every day from work so she could be there when I woke."

Regina moans, her breath warm against Emma's neck and Emma slides a hand to her back, undoing the clasp of her bra and sending it to the floor before returning the hand to her breast. "Sometimes I'd wake up and she'd be lying next to me, naked… wet… ready," she says, punctuating the three words with a painful tug of a nipple that causes Regina to gasp and roll her hips with obvious need.

"Other times," she continues, pushing panties aside and delving between folds to the hard bundle of nerves begging for attention. "Her head would be between my legs, my body on the edge of orgasm. The second I opened my eyes to the sight of a hand pumping in and out of her tight little pussy, I'd come all over her cute face."

With a groan, Regina grabs her by the hair and growls, "Stop talking and fucking fuck me."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a promise to certain someones that I would write a full-length PWP chapter after the ending the last where I did so... enjoy, or don't.

Regina feels the vibration in her throat, down to her chest, her stomach—her _toes._ Emma chuckles into her neck and it is such an amused, dirty little sound that her folds slicken faster than she thinks should be possible.

The hand at her breast drops straight to her belt, easily undoing the buckle and tugging it smoothly from its seat. Emma pulls back at the waist, allowing the slacks to fall down her legs and pool around her feet as fingers slip beneath the waistband of her panties, nails brushing against the swell of her backside and Regina gasps, hips jerking before lace flutters to the floor in tatters.

A rebuke sits on the tip of her tongue, her lips parting in an attempt to unleash it only for a pleasured cry to take its place as Emma thrusts into her. Emma delves deep and hard, not allowing Regina the time to adjust as her command borne from frustration is obeyed with the utmost enthusiasm.

Emma fucks her just as she wanted, setting a punishing pace and not once faltering. She is relentless and Regina's arousal climbs, higher and higher, blooming in the pit of her stomach and spreading at an alarming rate. In only seconds, her entire body feels as though she has been teased for hours and she wants to scream, to beg Emma to slow down but all that comes are guttural moans and keening little whimpers.

Her eyes slam shut as she reaches her peak, teeth clamping down on her bottom lip with the effort to hold in the pleasured cry of Emma's name as she comes, and she comes hard.

Another chuckle sounds close to her ear and she wishes she could speak, that she could tell Emma to shut up and not be so smug but her mind is foggy and her words would be slurred at best.

Instead, she surrenders to the sudden weightlessness of her body and smiles as lips flutter over her pulse before she feels the soft caress of sheets against her back. She knows Emma has laid her down on the bed but in this moment, she would swear she is floating on a cloud as she sinks into the feeling and succumbs to the darkness surrounding her, her last thought that of wonder as she feels the gentle sucking of her lower lip.

* * *

With a salacious smirk and eyes fixed to the body curled in the middle of the bed, Regina slowly inches the sheet barring her view down and releases a pleased little hum as more and more pale flesh is revealed to her.

Careful not to wake Emma just yet, she moves to the side of the bed and reaches out; moulding her hand against a hip as she gently rolls the blonde on to her back.

Her mouth waters with want as she takes in the sight of puckered nipples and she closes her eyes, tampering down the urge to forget the plan she concocted during the afternoon whilst stuck in tedious meetings with even more tedious people.

Exhaling a sigh as she feels her arousal recede a little, she opens them and climbs on to the bed without jostling the blonde too much, stroking her hand from hip to thigh where she coaxes the legs open with gentle teasing. Regina shifts, getting into position between them and lowering herself down, groin-to-groin, mouth aligned with those perfect breasts.

Nuzzling each firm mound, she traces one from side to peak with the fluttery kiss of lips, taking the bud into her mouth and swirling it around with her tongue.

She releases it after a few gentle sucks, lightly blowing the trail of wetness left behind and smiling when it causes a shudder to ripple down a spine before she repeats the move on the neglected breast.

"Regina?"

Grazing teeth over the hardened point, Regina shivers at the sleep-husked tone and raises her head as she questions, "Yes, my dear?"

A lazy smile curls pink lips and she leans into the hand that rises to caress her cheek. "What time is it?"

"Almost six," she replies, placing a kiss on the palm before returning her mouth to a breast and pinching flesh between teeth.

Emma moans, squirming beneath her as she tangles a hand in her hair and asks, "And what are you doing?"

Soothing the bite with her tongue, Regina moves back to the nipple and brushes it with lips as she answers, "Reminding you of what's mine?"

Emma hums, arching her back into the hot mouth doing wonderful things to her and she releases a shuddered breath. It takes her a minute before she can speak again, still not quite awake as she tries to verbalise her thoughts.

"Has my reminiscing given you an idea?"

"You could say that," Regina admits, having found that replaying Emma's words in her mind had been a rather successful way of not falling asleep while she listened to the townsfolk drone on about—she doesn't actually remember.

It was a very successful distraction.

"I do hope at least one part of this is new for you," she adds

"Hmm?" Emma responds, attention on the hand that takes hold of the back of her thigh and spreads her further.

Her breath hitches when something presses at her entrance and a moment later, she feels the slight burn as her pussy stretches to accommodate Regina's obvious new addition. "Oh yes," she gasps, hooking her leg over the brunette's lower back as she pushes down with her heel and bucks her hips.

"So greedy," Regina murmurs, still for the time it takes to connect their lips before she starts to move.

Her hand trails down a thigh, tracing the curve of a backside as she slides her tongue between lips. Emma moans into her mouth, her own hands gliding along the ribbed flesh of Regina's sides as the two find the perfect rhythm of hips.

Regina sighs into the kiss, the sound somewhat forlorn as a desire to feel what it's like to be buried deep inside Emma overcomes her. It is the first time in a long while that she wishes she still had access to her magic, knowing she would have been able to make that desire a reality with the simple flick of her wrist.

She groans as nails drag down her back, thrusting in a way that causes her cock to find the spot she likes to tease whenever she fucks Emma. Emma cries out and her leg slips from Regina's waist, no longer possessing the strength to keep it there, as every muscle in her body seems to tighten in preparation for the oncoming release.

It has been a long time since she allowed anyone to fuck her with anything more than fingers or mouth and while Regina hadn't exactly asked, she finds she's unable to summon reason enough to care when it feels so _good_. She can't even remember the last time she felt so full, and she silently congratulates herself; for choosing Miranda of all people to be the one who inspired this.

Just when she thinks she can't possibly love it anymore, the hand on her ass moves back to her thigh and Regina pushes her leg toward her chest. It is almost too much as she feels the cock slide even deeper, and it is most definitely too much when Regina changes the pace.

"Regina," she warns, breaking their kiss as the slow steady flame warming her from the inside out suddenly transforms into a roaring fire, pushing her straight to the edge of oblivion.

The utterance is barely more than a whisper, sounding more like a curse than her name but Regina ignores it regardless and continues on. She _needs_ Emma to come as she imagines those walls gripping her hardness, feeling them contracting around her cock.

Fucking Emma this way is absolute _torture_ and she wants it to be over, to have this gorgeous creature's mouth on her cunt, relieving the vexing pressure there. She is wet, swollen and more than ready to be devoured by skilled lips and eager tongue.

Traversing a pale neck with teeth and tongue, she bites and sucks at Emma's pulse as she quickens the thrust of her hips, sliding a hand between them while holding herself up with the other. Her thumb finds the slippery bundle of nerves and she presses down, forcing Emma to give herself over to the pleasure as her body snaps taut and she comes with a hoarse cry of her Queen's name.

Lifting her head with no small sense of regret to part with having Emma in her mouth, Regina stares down at the blonde as she continues to pump her hips, drawing her release out for as long as possible. Emma is radiant when she comes and it never fails to leave her breathless, her eyes swiftly cataloguing every twitch, every strained muscle and each mark she manages to make in the midst of it all.

The bite she left on her neck is already fading and—were she someone else—she might think it would disappoint her, but she isn't and it doesn't.

Rather, knowing she can mark Emma anywhere, anytime without fear of it being seen and commented on fills her with an unusual sense of glee. Emma's body is like a canvas, blank and waiting to be filled, only to erase—in mere minutes—the masterpiece she leaves behind with nails, with teeth.

She loves that she can do it all over again.

Emma whimpers when she pulls out and she feels another jolt of arousal shoot straight to the apex of her thighs, releasing what can only be described as a feral growl as she rips the straps from about her waist and throws the toy to the floor before climbing the blonde's long, lithe body and straddling her head.

"Please," she says, desperate for the attention Emma all too willingly gives as she grasps her by the hips and pulls her down on to her mouth.

Swiping her tongue through folds, Emma is surprised by how wet she is and decides not to prolong her suffering, lips wrapping firmly about her clit and steadily building Regina towards her own orgasm. Regina sobs her relief and tangles a hand within the blonde curls, hips rocking as she feels the fingers probing her entrance before Emma sheathes two of them within her warm, clinging heat.

Regina closes her eyes and reaches for the headboard with her other hand, head resting against her bicep. She releases a moan, grinding down on fingers and mouth as Emma lashes her aching nub with the quick flicks of her tongue.

When she comes, she sinks her teeth into her arm to stop from screaming out in pleasure. Every time Emma makes her come, the experience is only more intense and she is almost certain her son would hear her even from across the other side of town.

Coming down from her high, she feels Emma ease the fingers from inside of her and she sighs into the sweaty flesh of a neck as Emma lowers her back down to her waist, their bodies fitting together as though the two were made for each other.

A few minutes later, Emma notices her increasing discomfort and squeezes her hip before she questions, "Why are you wriggling?"

"I need to pee," Regina complains, uncaring if she sounds petulant. She doesn't want to leave the warmth of Emma's arms, nor the lips periodically placing sweet kisses along throat and shoulder for something as wholly inconvenient as bodily functions.

"Too bad," Emma says, hands sliding along her spine and causing a pleasant shiver in their wake. "I'm not done with you."

Raising her head, she narrows her eyes in feigned irritation and questions, "What am I, another sex slave?"

"You are so much more than that," is Emma's prompt response and Regina feels oh so warm inside as her chest seems to expand tenfold for this woman.

Lower lip protruding with a pout, she forces her voice into a childish whine and asks, "What if I want to be one?"

Emma laughs softly, kissing the adorable pout before she sighs in mock depreciation and says, "I'm sorry, my Queen; you're just too much woman for me to handle for that sort of commitment."

"Pity," Regina murmurs, shifting to relieve the far less than pleasurable pressure in her stomach. "I do have quite a fondness for your sheets, Miss Swan."

"Oh see now…" Emma lowers her voice to an almost whisper, "Say it like that and I feel all naughty."

"Behave, _Miss Swan_."

"Mmm," Emma hums, finally relenting as she lets go and allows Regina to get up before she has an extremely embarrassing accident, calling after her retreating form, "Not a chance, Ms Mills."

* * *

Walking back into the bedroom, Regina stops and her breath quickens, arousal reigniting with unbearable force as she takes in the sight that greets her. Emma is sat, propped against pillows as she strokes the cock that now protrudes from between her own legs.

The door slams shut louder than she intends with the kick of her heel and she watches the grin Emma wears widen as she peels what little clothing she had donned from her body in record time.

Free from their confines, she crawls on to the bed and straddles the blonde's thighs. Words become lost on their path from brain to mouth and all she can do is stare at the shaft as the hand continues, undeterred by her arrival as though Emma's goal wasn't to entice her into returning to bed.

Faster than her mind can register that same hand reaching for her hip, she finds herself on her stomach with a mouthful of sheets. She struggles for a moment, not knowing Emma's intention until she feels the length of the cock nestle between her folds as breasts press into her back.

"I hated not having my toys," Emma murmurs into her ear, hand still on her hip while the other slips under her to squeeze her breast. "I've wanted to have you like this since the day we met, to enjoy the view of that perfect ass while I fuck you from behind."

Regina whimpers as the image sends a wave of arousal to the apex of her thighs, switching to an approving moan when she rolls her hips into the mattress and the cock rubs deliciously against her slit.

Moving the hand from her breast, Emma guides it down her stomach and wraps an arm about her waist, pulling Regina to her knees as she settles onto her own.

Before she can think to rise on her hands, Regina cries out at the unexpected slap to the cheek of her ass and almost succeeds in reversing her position. What little anger she feels for the undeserved blow, however, fizzles out as Emma tightens her hold and lowers her head, soothing the sting with the tender caress of lips.

She ascends with nips and kisses, from cheek, to hip, to a spine she follows with the flat of her tongue and Regina arches into it, pleasured sounds freely falling from her lips as her body vibrates and wetness continues to seep from her pussy.

"Emma," she says, the tone of her voice unclear, torn between wanting to demand Emma stop toying with her and begging to be thoroughly fucked.

With all the times she has come so hard that she's lost consciousness, it's becoming somewhat of an expectation and she needs the blonde inside her before she comes from touches alone. A nose brushes behind her ear and she sighs; a sound of contentment as she turns her head and Emma presses the briefest kiss to the side of her neck before she pulls back.

"On your hands," Emma growls. It sounds like a command and yet, Regina doesn't care as she eagerly complies.

Plea, request or command, there is no chance in hell she is about to deny her when she knows exactly how capable Emma is of leaving her wanting. She had known that night in her study, unable to take her eyes away from the tight pull of muscle beneath slacks as the blonde stood, that Emma Swan could easily become a fixture for obsession were she to allow such a thing to occur.

It comes as no surprise to her that she had in fact, allowed such, and she feels no hint of regret considering the more than ample amount of time the two of them spend together, wrapped in one another and entirely indifferent to the outside world.

"I'm not going to fuck you until I know you're here with me, Your Majesty."

Her head snaps up, contorting in an effort to look over her shoulder. "I'm here," she husks, biting her lip and waiting for the faint smile at the edge of pale lips before she releases her sigh and turns back around.

"Good," Emma states as she increases the pressure of her hand on a hip, guiding the cock to inviting heat. Regina's breathe hitches when the head slides between her folds and Emma releases the shaft as she eases it inside, hand travelling up her back to curl around a shoulder.

"Yes," Regina hisses, walls stretching to accommodate the girth as Emma's thighs settle against the back of her own.

Fingers clasp the back of her neck as Emma starts to move, slow at first, not wanting to hurt her and unsure how much she can take. It is both sweet and frustrating, and after allowing her a few minutes of indulgence, Regina speaks up.

"I'm not quite so fragile, dear," she purrs and Emma laughs softly, pressing a kiss to the middle of her spine before she picks up the pace.

"Mmm, just like that," Regina encourages as her pussy clenches around the shaft and the hand moves from her neck, joining its twin in palming the cheeks of her ass.

Looking down, Emma watches the cock thrust in and out, feeling her clit throb as she brushes the pad of her thumb over a puckered hole, delighting in the pleasured gasp Regina answers with before she pushes her ass back in invitation.

Repeating the action, the second response is no less wanton and Emma groans while stilling her hips. She draws her thumb down between cheeks and dips into slick, swollen folds, gathering the wetness there before returning to the tight hole. The more pressure she adds, the louder Regina moans and Emma starts to move her hips again, unable to stop herself from reacting to sight of her thumb as it disappears into welcoming heat.

Regina feels herself unravelling alarmingly fast. She has never allowed someone this much access to her body, yet there is no hesitation when granting it to Emma as she strains to hold on, to prolong her pleasure and enjoy this unprecedented feeling of being filled so thoroughly.

Closing her eyes, her breathing labours and she shivers uncontrollably as Emma further increases her thrusts, her cock hitting all the right places to send her mind reeling with the intensity of her desire to insist that Emma never, ever stop taking what she wants from her.

Her hands fist the sheets and she releases a long moan of satisfaction, stomach warning of the approaching climax as she focuses all her attention on the digit penetrating her ass in time with the deep drilling of Emma's cock.

Release rips through her and she emits a hoarse scream of the blonde's name that only causes Emma to fuck her harder, the muscles in her arms burning, straining to hold her up until she finally collapses to the mattress in an undignified, sweat-drenched heap.

Emma eases her thumb from within the brunette, stroking hips while she waits for the muscles holding her in place to relax. There is a groan of discomfort as she pulls out and she quickly unstraps the toy from her waist, curling her body around Regina who rolls on to her side and allows the blonde to hold her.

"Good?" Emma questions, lips pressing kisses across her shoulder blade as she waits for a response.

"Understatement," Regina murmurs with a content sigh, turning in the embrace and smiling as she leans in to claim a proper kiss. "I think I might keep you, Miss Swan."

Emma grins, amusement dancing in her eyes as she replies, "I think I might let you, Ms Mills."


	15. Chapter 15

_Your woman is bored._

Regina frowns at the text from Michael, wondering what he expects her to do about it as she replies; s _he knows I'm spending the night with Henry._ Not that she doesn't _want_ Emma with them—she had even invited her over, but Emma started rambling about paperwork she needed to finish and though she's fairly confident it was merely an excuse for getting out of spending time with Henry, Regina didn't push. They had stayed at the cabin an awful lot over the past few weeks, after all.

Staring down at her phone, she flinches when it rings in her hand and quickly stands; shooting an apologetic look to her son for interrupting the movie before she leaves the den for some privacy.

With a none-too-gentle jab of the finger to accept his call, Michael speaks before she manages to ask what the hell he wants. " _I_ know why you're not here, but I can seriously hear her pacing downstairs and it is driving me insane," he complains and she rolls her eyes.

"I don't understand what it is you think I can do about it," she replies, leaning her back against the wall of the foyer with a sigh of exasperation. "I asked if she wanted to join us and she didn't. Why don't you call Graham and go on a date or something equally nauseating, instead of whining to me?"

"Because he's _working_ ," he grumbles and she chuckles picturing the pout he no doubt wears. She snorts when he adds, "The Mayor is a fucking slave driver."

"How awful for you," she drawls mockingly, another chuckle escaping when his only response is an irritated huff of breath. "Would you like me to call and give him the rest of the night off?"

"I would _like—_ " He stops himself, dropping the snark from his tone as he corrects, "Actually yes, I would like that—but also, I'd like you to do something about the volatile vampire downstairs before she decides to amuse herself by beating the shit out of me _as per usual_."

It isn't the most eloquently worded invitation of his and yet, Regina finds herself accepting it regardless. Pushing from the wall, she moves back into the den and covers the mouthpiece as she directs her next question to her son. "Henry, would you like to stay the night at Emma's again?"

He immediately launches himself from the couch, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips as the move sends the remote flying from his lap. "Sorry," he mumbles, retrieving it from where it landed beneath the table and placing it on top.

She smiles and shakes her head. "Go and pack an overnight bag while I make another call," she says, letting Michael in on the plan as Henry rushes passed her and up to his room. "We'll be there shortly and I will inform Graham he has the night off. If Emma does come to you before then, I'll consider it your thanks to me if you wait at least until I arrive before you have your ass handed to you by a _girl_."

"Ow my ego," he deadpans. "Just hurry up and get here, witch," he adds before she hears the dial tone signalling he'd hung up on her.

"Rude," she murmurs with a laugh, pulling the phone from her ear and dialling Graham as she makes her way toward the stairs.

Fifteen minutes later, she pulls up to the cabin in the woods and smirks as the door flies open. Michael appears beneath the porch light with Emma a few steps behind him and his voice rings through the air as she emerges from the car.

"Hey look, your lady love is here with the fruit of your loins."

Regina blinks, glancing to Henry before she looks back at the werewolf. Eyebrow raised, she repeats, "Fruit of her loins?"

With a shrug of his shoulders, he suggests, "Muffin from—Hey!" Emma interrupts with a cuff to the back of his head and Regina chuckles; eyes shining bright as she flashes the blonde an approving smile and receives a wink in reply.

Collecting the bags from the trunk of her car and handing Henry his, she walks over to them and pats Michael fondly on the cheek before greeting the blonde with a kiss. Emma smiles against her mouth and as Regina pulls away, emerald eyes drift to look over her shoulder where their son stands.

"Hey kid," Emma offers, smile still firmly in place. Regina turns, her own lips curling in response to the way his face lights up with the acknowledgement as Emma adds, "The console came this afternoon if you wanna set it up."

He nods and Emma slips from the doorway to stand behind Regina, wrapping arms about her waist and holding her close as he enters the cabin, followed closely by Michael who makes obscene kissing noises and barely manages to avoid a second slap to the back of the head.

"Missed," he taunts, spinning on his heel and sticking his tongue out at Regina before he dramatically slams the door on them.

"I'm sorry my supposedly adult brother intruded on your bonding time," Emma murmurs as Regina twists in the embrace.

"I'm not," she counters, doing exactly as Michael predicted and stealing another kiss. Only three days have passed since the two of them were together last but she can admit—to herself at least—that she has missed the blonde as she reasons, "There should be a limit to how many times your child is allowed to convince you to watch Wreck-It Ralph."

A truth, even if it isn't a significant one.

"And it should come long before entering the double digits," she adds when Emma's response is nothing more than a grin.

Resting their foreheads together, Emma releases a soft sigh of contentment and confesses, "I like Wreck-It Ralph," which causes Regina to laugh once more and press another kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"I do too, but I think twelve times in the span of half a year is overdoing it."

"Just a bit," Emma agrees with a nod, pausing further conversation as she claims dark lips in a kiss so far removed from their previously chaste ones that Regina soon forgets what they were talking about to begin with.

* * *

Henry whoops, beating Emma for the fifth time that night and she purses her lips to hold in her laughter. For the first two rounds, she had wiped the floor with him but after seeing the slight frown on Regina's brow that became more prominent over the hour, Emma relented and started choosing characters she knows she sucks at playing.

Regina had rewarded her during a break, cornering Emma in the kitchen where she was preparing a snack for Henry and practically attacking her mouth before she sauntered off back to the lounge. Emma had beaten him a number of times since, but always made sure she was one or two down on wins.

Passing the controller to Regina, she sniffs as though disappointed with herself and comments, "Pretty sure you're a cheat."

His face scrunches in genuine offense as he retorts, "Pretty sure I'm not."

Ignoring the sigh from beside her, she continues to goad him, "Preeeetty sure you're lying."

"Children," Regina chides, mock glaring as the two turn to her with matching grins. "Honestly to think one of you is supposed to be an adult.

Glancing to Henry, Emma shakes her head. "I don't think he's old enough to be an adult, Regina," she argues, reaching over and prodding at his cheek with a finger. "Look at these chubby things, he's still a baby."

Henry slaps at her hand, all the while giggling as Emma hears another sigh from behind her. She turns to the brunette to gauge a more honest reaction and smirks, the resigned acceptance the sounds imply overshadowed by the unmistakable mirth within chestnut eyes.

"It's okay," she assures, as serious as she can manage with the impossibly wide grin threatening to erupt on her face. "You can think I'm hilarious, Henry won't judge you; right Henry?"

Regina's entire body shakes with laughter and Emma snaps around to face him, catching the nod of his head before his eyes widen at being caught. Emma gapes, emitting a sound of disbelief as she turns back to the brunette.

"A cheat _and_ a traitor, nice son you've got there, Madam Mayor," she states, leaning in to silence the bubble of laughter that finally escapes before she stands from the couch. "I need a drink, you Mills lot are mean."

"Why yes I would love a drink, Miss Swan." Emma points a finger in warning and Regina grins as she purrs, "Em-ma."

Stomach rolling with sudden arousal, Emma pulls her lower lip between teeth and forgoes a response as she moves to the liquor cabinet. It would be a shame to scar Henry so early into their relationship—maybe when he's old enough to have a girlfriend, she thinks.

Freezing as she reaches for the whiskey, she considers the thought. Barely two months together and already she's starting to think long-term, the idea is equal parts unsurprising and terrifying. She has admitted, in her own roundabout way, her feelings for the brunette but it isn't until this moment that she comprehends just how far she's fallen for Regina.

Roots, commitment; the words are completely alien to her and when one has a practical eternity of life ahead of them it is a lot to take in.

"Emma?"

Blinking rapidly, her thoughts slowly recede and she stares down at the bottle in her hand. "Hmm?" she replies distractedly, filling one glass with whiskey before she returns the bottle to its shelf and grabs the vodka for herself.

When she turns with drinks in hand, she notices the concern directed her way and frowns before Regina asks, "Is something wrong?"

Their fingers brush as she hands Regina her drink and she returns to her seat, shaking her head. She would have panicked. Anyone else, during a time when she wasn't certain of who she is and what she wants, she would have dropped everything and ran, as fast and as far from this place as she could.

But she knows who she is and who and what she wants is sitting beside her, beautiful and soft with apprehension in her gaze and an adorably furrowed brow. She shakes her head again and darts forward, pecking those dark, inviting lips before she leans back with a smile.

"Everything is perfect."

* * *

It is somewhere around 3am when Michael leaves Graham passed out in his bed and he walks the streets of Storybrooke leisurely, heading toward the Rabbit Hole for a drink before he returns to the cabin to watch over Emma. Lost in thoughts about the Sheriff and the Mayor's apparent skill for matchmaking, he's halfway there before he registers the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

He tilts his head as he pauses in his stride, bathed in the overhead fluorescent light of a lamppost that shines bright beneath the closed lids of his eyes. A shiver wracks his lithe frame, trailing his spine and sending an explosion of fear throughout his body.

His eyes snap open at the same moment his wolf senses the threat, and he breaks into a run, clothes shredding and falling to the pavement as he effortlessly shifts from one form to another. His low, warning howl morphs into a rumbling growl that echoes in his ears along with his laboured huffs of breath.

In minutes, he traverses the distance from one side of town to the other and he stops short of the line separating these people from the outside world. He lifts his head, teeth bared as he picks up the scent of not one, but three other nightwalkers in the vicinity and he turns, padding through the trees and into the forest as he follows their trail.

He comes upon one sooner than expected, feels the pressure in his skull and shakes his head. Weak, he thinks, releasing a huff through his nose before he continues on, seeking out the other two. He finds a second, vaguely more capable than the last but still no match against his own will as he snaps his jaw, the wolf in him amused at the weakness.

It takes him time to find the last but when he does, the pain in his head forces a whine from his throat; the third is infinitely more powerful and he can barely restrain his yelp when one of his mental barriers shatters before he retreats back into the forest.

Elder, elder, elder; his thoughts repeat, the word constant as he leaps through the air over a fallen tree and bounds toward the cabin. The spell cast over the town seems to confuse the vampires, but Emma needs to know they're here, that they're searching—she needs to kill them, his wolf finishes the thought with a growl and Michael bobs his head in agreement.


	16. Chapter 16

A high-pitched whine forces Emma to open her eyes and she sits up, carefully shifting out from beneath the body draped across her and stretching to relieve the kinks in her back. She smiles down at the woman spread along her couch as Regina mumbles something incoherent and she bends down, kissing her forehead with a brush of lips as she quietly tells her to go back to sleep.

Burying her head into the cushion Emma had vacated, Regina sighs and her breathing signals her return to sleep within seconds. Grabbing the throw from the back of the couch, Emma places it over her before she moves to the door and yanks it open to find a pitch-black wolf sat in front of the stairs.

She steps out on to the porch and pulls the door shut quietly behind her, beckoning him to her as she crouches down. She places a hand on his head and amber eyes flash in time with emerald, a connection forming between the two as she seeks a reason for his presence.

_Elder!_

The shout rings in her ears and she shakes her head. "Calm down," she murmurs, reaching for fur with her other hand and stroking his neck in an attempt to soothe him while she tries to piece together his rambled thoughts.

Images trickle through into her mind; Michael standing in the glow of lamplight, his transformation and his running through town. Her nostrils flare as he comes across the fledgling, and she feels an echo of sympathy for the wolf upon sensing the pain that hits him when the Elder tries to tear into his mind.

Her chest vibrates with a growl and she breaks their connection, staring into his eyes as she questions, "Are you alright?"

He huffs and it's all the answer she needs. She nods, scratching behind his ear before she stands. Running fingers through her hair, she looks down at Michael and then up at the sky. "If we're doing this, then we only have about an hour," she tells him.

It doesn't surprise her that the Council sent someone—the fact an Elder is attempting to bypass the curse without first contacting her however, means he isn't there to simply check up on her progress and  _that_ means she has little choice besides the one running through her head.

Glancing back to the door of the cabin, the prospect of missing the chance to be there when Regina wakes causes her to grimace. Michael nudges her leg as if to tell her to hurry up, and then dashes off toward the treeline. Facing forward, she rolls her shoulders and discards her jacket before giving chase, trusting his nose to lead them as they run through the forest.

It takes them little time to reach the middle where the line separates the town from the outside world and as she witnesses the border flicker in front of her, a snarl ripping from Michael's throat. The fledgling stood on the other side doesn't stand a chance against the centuries old werewolf, his mouth open in an attempt at a shout before his throat is ripped out by sharp teeth.

Before the vampire has even fallen to the ground, Michael is off again, leaving Emma to ensure the man neither heals nor rises as she grips what little remains of his throat. She crushes both flesh and bone in her fist, easily snapping his neck and severing the head from his shoulders with a single jerk of her arm, and then stands, discarding the body for the sun to dispose of once it returns as she follows the sounds deeper into the forest.

The sight that greets her when she emerges from the trees and into the clearing forces her still and her eyes dart between the unconscious form of her brother, a vampire she does not recognise but senses is the Elder by the power that emanates from him, and the familiar face of one Victor Morganti; head of the Brethren.

"Emma." Victor acknowledges her arrival and inclines his head.

"Apologies about your brother; he didn't give me time to announce myself before he attacked Christopher here,' he says with a nod to another form sprawled on the ground a few feet from where she stands.

She listens out of respect but when she speaks, it is to the vampire beside him. "Why did you not announce yourself?"

"I am here at the behest of the Council," he replies, his tone laced with an odd mix of disgust and condescension, as though loath to explain himself to the likes of her. "I had been informed this territory belongs to a witch, and a witch; you are not."

At the mention of Regina, Emma smirks. "Perhaps not, but as I am the only nightwalker within the vicinity and the only person capable of granting you access to her territory; one would assume an Elder have enough sense to ask permission."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever right you think you have here is overruled by the protection provided to me by the Council," he sneers and she moves toward him, a taunting chuckle falling from her lips.

"Since you seem to misunderstand my point, allow me to put it to you in simpler terms." She darts forward then, stopping mere inches in front of him as she lowers her voice and says, "Your  _Council_ has no power here and  _you_ are about to die."

But as she moves to fulfil her threat, a much larger hand than her own wraps around the vampire's throat and her eyes dart questioningly to Victor upon hearing the neck snap. "By the time he or Christopher recover, the sun will have taken care of them—consider this my request to enter your domain," he explains, her acceptance already expected as he walks over to collect Michael from the ground.

She smiles.

"Welcome to Storybrooke, father."

* * *

Regina jerks awake, a groan echoing in her ears as a shiver wracks her body. She tries to move, to curl into a ball against the sudden chill, and feels the resistance that accompanies the sound of chains. Her eyes snap open, mind clouded by sleep, feeling disoriented as she tries and fails to make sense of her surroundings.

Even in her state of confusion, she knows she is no longer at the cabin. There is no warmth to be found, no familiar body beneath her with its baffling heat or the arms she has grown accustomed to; settled around her waist in a possessive hold. Her chest clenches painfully, yearning for the blonde mingling with the beginnings of panic as she wonders where she is and why Emma is no longer there with her.

"Good morning, Your Majesty."

She stiffens at the voice, reality slowly seeping into her mind as her vision clears and Gold—no—Rumplestiltskin stands before her, his impish smirk threatening. Her panic increases and she struggles in vain against her bonds. She shivers again, and then notices the bucket in his hands, teeth chattering before her jaw clamps shut and anger replaces panic.

"I didn't think it would come to this," he comments, the loud clank of the bucket against stone following his words as he drops it and steps closer. "But then, what choice did I have when my Saviour has fallen under the Evil Queen's spell?"

Pulling against the chains holding her to the wall, Regina's lip curls with a sneer. To hear his claim on Emma sends a shudder down her spine as her blood boils, a sensation flooding her veins, reminiscent of a time when she possessed magic. She wants to strangle him, to wrap her hands around his neck and feel the life as it drains out of him in large, hulking gasps.

"You're going to regret this," she warns, voice barely more than a snarl. In this world, he is nothing more than a mortal man and she has seen what Emma can do—what she could have done to their son had she been pushed far enough. Rumplestiltskin has no magic, no leverage—no hope.

"I think not," he replies and her eyes zero in on the object now in his hand. The beating of her heart increases tenfold for a brief, indistinguishable second before it settles. She has never feared death, and she isn't about to start now.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes at the sight of the gun. "You think killing me will convince her to break the curse?"

His lips curl and she is reminded of the leather-skinned imp he used to be as he waves the gun around. "Killing you would gain me nothing," he says. "Killing her, however, will break the curse as easily as True Love."

The anger drains from her almost instantly and she blinks, trying to make sense of his words. Not once had it occurred to her that Emma's death would end the curse, having assumed it would break as all others had in the past and her mouth slowly forms into what can only be described as a maniacal grin.

Her silence lasts long enough for him to think he has won before her laughter fills the dark cavern, echoing from wall to wall. His face contorts in confusion and she sees the sudden flash of doubt in his eyes, amusing her further as she levels him with a smirk. "Good luck with that," she purrs, a throaty chuckle spilling from lips as her head falls back against the cold stone of her temporary prison.

He has no idea who Emma truly is, and all she has to do is wait, safe in the knowledge that he has no intention of killing her while Emma and Michael search. His nostrils flare and she knows he wants to ask, wants to know what humour she can possibly find in her situation but  _he_ knows her better than most and instead of trying to sate his curiosity, he turns abruptly on his heel and storms away.

Her smirk widens and she wants to close her eyes, to let her mind wander to thoughts of all the ways Emma is going to make him suffer when she finds them, but she had sensed another's presence. She can still sense it, hiding from the small flicker of light provided by the lantern at her feet—watching her, and she sighs, reminded of her old friend.

"Hello, Maleficent."

"Regina." The blonde steps from the shadows, smile on her lips as she gestures to the chains and says, "You seem to be in quite the predicament."

"I imagine that pleases you," Regina responds, wary as she eyes the woman she'd cursed to spend the rest of her life in the form of a dragon. If there is one person who holds a grudge as well as she, Maleficent is the one and by her human appearance, she thinks it safe to assume a deal of some kind has been struck.

"Maybe just a little," Maleficent chuckles, stepping in to the brunette and running a finger along her jaw as she looks on with a curious expression. "I must admit you're much calmer than I thought you would be while he was regaling me with his plan for you and... what was it he called her? His Saviour?"

Regina jerks away from the touch with a grimace, seeing the familiar glint within the blonde's gaze. She used to feel fire in those hands, a pleasant tingling of anticipation and desire in her gut, but no more. "I hope whatever deal you've made with him will be worth it."

"Oh I assure you, my dear Queen," the blonde purrs, their lips only inches apart as she leans in. "You are worth more to me than you know."

* * *

The cabin is in ruins, a casualty in Emma's fit of rage when she came home to find the place empty. Both Henry and Regina are gone, but the Mercedes is still parked in front of the cabin. She immediately thought of Gold, scenting him as she entered to the sight of an empty couch and nothing to explain their absence.

"You need to sleep."

"I  _need_ to find her!" Emma snarls, flying at her father and pounding on his chest.

Victor snaps and grabs the back of her neck in a strong grip as he reasons, "There are only minutes before the sun rises and you won't be of any use to her if you are dead."

She knows it's true, knows she can do nothing until nightfall and she slumps against him. "Go, sleep," he says, his cheek resting against her temple. "I will watch over you and when Michael awakens,  _he_ will search for her."

Her fists curl within his shirt and she closes her eyes. "We're bound," she whispers, dejected as all the anger washes out of her and she gives in to the comfort of his embrace. "I can't lose her."

Silence reigns for a short few minutes before he speaks again.

"The fact you are still breathing means she's alive," he replies and she lifts her head, surprised as he moves his hand from neck to shoulder and squeezes it, understanding rather than judgment in his gaze. "I will tell your brother what has happened and we'll see how well this imp can hide from your wolf."

She stays for a moment longer, concentrating on even breaths before she pulls back with a nod. When she finds them, when she finds the woman she loves and their son, she will summon every ounce of anger she possesses and punish the one who took them from her but for now—for now, anger will only lead to stupid choices and unlike all the times when those choices didn't much matter, she has other people to think of. Regina wouldn't take kindly to know she'd gotten herself killed before she saved them, especially not if she ended up dying to something as idiotic as too much exposure to the sun.

"Tell him to look for Henry," she says as she turns toward the stairs. "I don't know if they'll be in the same place, but she'd never forgive me if I saved her first."


	17. Chapter 17

The second time Regina wakes chained to the wall, Maleficent sits across from her appearing lost in thought. She licks her lips and takes the opportunity to get a clearer look at her surroundings. She'd only been underneath the library once when the curse was first cast, but it is as she remembers it. A chasm lies in the middle of the floor and she knows it to be where the dragon had slept, having awoken during that first visit and emerging from the pit in a rage. The memory causes her to chuckle, feeling an echo of the fear she felt that day when she barely escaped her old friend.

She glances back to the blonde who continues to stare off into the distance and she wonders what it is that has captured her attention, feeling almost envious of her ability to seal herself off from the outside world. She used to catch Maleficent doing it all the time back in their old world, especially during their annual get-togethers—the meeting of the  _villains_ as she once overheard Snow dub it while spying on the insipid fool.

A flicker catches her eye and she smiles, head lolling to the side as Emma's doppelganger appears. "I was wondering when you would show up," she murmurs, warmth gathering in her chest when she receives a familiar looking grin.

"Under the circumstances, I don't think you can blame her for not wanting to fall asleep," not-Emma replies. Regina smirks, conceding the point as the blonde takes a cursory glance at their surroundings before noting aloud, "I don't believe she's had the pleasure of being here before."

"I wouldn't have advised it considering a dragon used to live here," Regina comments with a wry grin. Her eyes cut to the blonde seated a few feet from them as she adds, "Still does, I suppose."

The projection follows her gaze and tilts her head. "Interesting," she says and turns back to Regina. "I believe Michael is searching for Henry. Would you like to tell me where Emma might find you when she wakes?"

Regina's head snaps up at the mention of her son and her eyes widen in panic as she questions, "Henry is missing?"

"No he isn't."

She starts, the voice closer than she expects and belonging to none other than Maleficent. Not-Emma glances between the two of them, eyebrow raised and Regina forces a blank mask to fall over her expression as she focuses on the older blonde. "Then where is he?" she questions, unable to keep the sneer from her voice. "If either of you have harmed a single hair on his—"

"Spare me your pointless threats," Maleficent interrupts with a roll of her eyes. Regina ignores the chuckle at her side, jaw clenching as she glares holes through the woman. "Rumplestiltskin may be twisted enough to use your boy against you but I prefer a more hands on approach, if you recall."

Regina scoffs. How could she forget? Maleficent has always preferred to inflict her own twisted idea of punishment on those she thinks have wronged her, taking pleasure in their suffering. Regina has her fair share of memories involving the blonde and her victims from their time together in the Enchanted Forest. "So you'd rather I be the single recipient of your revenge; splendid," she drawls, "but that hardly answers my question now does it,  _dear_?"

Maleficent smiles and it is one Regina knows all too well; saccharine, false, the kind of smile that promises things that no one in their right mind wants. Her mother used to smile the same way, right before Regina was forced to cry out in anguish, struggling against the magic that held her in place as cuts opened spontaneously all over her body. She swallows and turns from the smile, looking to not-Emma who no longer appears amused and instead wears a snarl, teeth bared in anger.

_I'm beneath the Library_ , she thinks, remembering their first interaction when she realised the entity could read her thoughts as their eyes meet. She sees the softening of emerald and offers a faint smile.  _Tell Emma to hurry up, her Queen demands it._

Not-Emma blinks, anger vanishing as quickly as it had come before she smirks. "I'll tell her," she says, fingers wiggling in farewell as she flickers once and disappears.

Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, Regina steels herself and turns back to the blonde in front of her as she growls, "Where is my son, you overgrown lizard?"

* * *

The bell above the door to the diner chimes and Michael enters, rubbing the ache that remains along his jaw from when his father had knocked him unconscious. He ignores the curious looks from the patrons, knowing the bruise on the side of his face will draw plenty of attention until it heals in a few hours.

He spots Richard over in a corner booth, his arm draped across the shoulders of the waitress and he sighs because  _of course_ this is where he is. Taking the phone from his pocket, he sends a text to his father telling him he's found the chauffer and receives an almost immediate reply of thanks before he shoves the device back into his pocket. He makes his way over to their table and pauses, looking down at the two for a moment while he figures out how to separate them.

With Graham taking up a semi, seemingly permanent residence in his thoughts, his little crush on the human seems to have dissipated quite rapidly. In turn, his dislike for the waitress has waned somewhat and with that conclusion in mind, he speaks.

"Ruby," he greets the brunette, feigning civility for the sake of the pounding at his temples. She raises an eyebrow as though she knows it's fake and he rolls his eyes as he explains, "I need your arm candy for a few hours—business fun and… whatnot."

Ruby slips from the booth so Richard can stand, and Michael grimaces, looking away as the two share a kiss. He then blinks as a hand pats his cheek and his glare snaps to the waitress who winks before she saunters off, a noticeable and highly unappreciated sway in her hips. He shakes his head.

"You're in trouble," he says to Richard, clipping the back of his head and pushing him toward the exit. "Luckily for you, you're going to spend the rest of the day with me and out of  _her_ reach."

It isn't until they've left the diner and are half-way down Main Street that Richard thinks to ask what happened. Michael stops, sensing the need for a change of direction and alters their course before he launches into an explanation of the events leading from earlier this morning when he called Emma from the cabin.

He doesn't know the specifics of what happened when they all returned, but once he regained consciousness and saw the destruction that surrounded him, he looked to their father who nodded, understanding his confusion as he stated simply, "Emma." Then he had explained why his sister had destroyed their home and for the second time that day, he felt dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.

He had known Regina meant the world to his sister, but he hadn't known the extent of their connection until that moment. He argued, furiously, against wasting time looking for the boy, more concerned for the Mayor who he had, albeit grudgingly, began to think of as a friend. His tune quickly changed once his father made it abundantly clear that Emma had ordered him to find Henry first. He still doesn't  _like_ the fact but brother or not, his oath to obey remains and it is the boy's scent that he and Richard now follow.

There's silence when he finishes speaking but over the years, Michael has learned to read Richard and he can see the worry lining the human's face. He nudges him in the ribs and when those baby blue eyes drift in his direction, Michael grins, attempting to joke as he says, "I'm sure she won't kill you."

Richard should have been at the cabin, they all know it and there's no doubt in his mind that Emma will be angry with  _both_ of them. It was because of him that she left the cabin in the first place—the reason wouldn't matter. Emma has always been less about intent and more about  _results_ , and in this case; the result definitely isn't cause for wild celebration.

The silence continues as they wander the streets, Michael stopping every so often to reorient himself. They pass the pawnshop not longer after leaving the diner, and he has to restrain himself from barrelling through the door to confront the sleaze of a pawnbroker. His father had shared Emma's suspicions that the man he senses within is responsible for abducting the Mayor and her son, and while it is a difficult thing, he knows that no matter what he can think to do to the man, it will be nothing compared to what Emma will do when she finds them.

Reigning himself in, they continue forward and eventually find themselves looking up at the sign pointing them down Mifflin Street. Michael frowns. The mansion was the first place he looked when he left the cabin, not delusional enough to believe it would be that easy but hoping all the same.

"I already checked there," he says, leading the way down the street regardless.

"Perhaps he was moved," Richard suggests and when Michael looks back over his shoulder at him, the human shrugs. "You're a werewolf, Guardian of vampires and I'm an indentured servant; stranger things have happened."

Michael snorts as he comes to a stop outside the house at 108. Sure enough, this is where the boy's scent is strongest and he shakes his head. Emma is going to laugh at him for taking so long to find the kid at his own house—that is assuming she doesn't simply remove his head. His sister is a lot less predictable than she used to be; perhaps she would laugh, and  _then_ tear his head from his shoulders.

He sighs, said shoulders hunching as he makes his way up the path to the house. Stood on the porch, he gestures to a seemingly random rock within the garden beside the stairs and Richard frowns before he bends to retrieve it.

Taking the key from within, he smirks at the human's confusion and says, "Emma tends to ramble once you get her talking about Regina," as he pushes open the door and steps into the foyer.

He'd seen every room on the first floor of the house—barring the study where Regina threatened to castrate him if he ever ventured inside. He had taken advantage of their blossoming friendship whenever he accompanied Emma on one of her many visits, snooping around every chance he got until Regina would eventually catch him, teasingly call him some undesirable name and then not so subtly demand he leave her house so she could spend some 'alone time' with his sister.

Richard who had only seen the house from the outside the night he brought Emma to Storybrooke, releases an impressed whistle and Michael grins. That had been his exact reaction every time he discovered a new room, and there were plenty of them.

Closing the door behind them, he shuts his eyes. Scenting someone is never an exact science and, sometimes, it  _is_ possible to be wrong but when in a place your target is familiar with, it requires a certain amount of concentration to separate the lingering traces of the person from the day, or even the week before. He can detect both Henry  _and_ Regina within the house but he dismisses the mother, focusing on the son as his feet carry him further into the house.

* * *

Thoughts of anger, confusion— _arousal_  fill Emma's head and her eyes snap open. She stares up at her ceiling, letting her mind and body wake at its own pace as the voices of her brother and father register, filtering down from the floor above her. She smiles. It had been quite some time since the three of them were together last and she'd forgotten the sound of the two of them arguing, a calm setting on her shoulders as she soaks in the familiar.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she rubs the remnants of sleep from her eyes and stands as she stretches, arching her back with arms above her head until she feels and hears the satisfying crack, releasing a pleased moan that tapers off as memories of earlier that morning fill her head. She remembers Regina first, and her stomach drops before she's hit with everything else. A growl rumbles in her chest and a sneer contorts her mouth as she moves around the room, clothes strewn about the floor in her haste to dress before she tears upstairs.

The arguing stops the second she appears and her eyes travel from Victor who tilts his head curiously, to Michael who looks away with an expression of guilt. She knows him, knows his thoughts without needing to hear him speak but she puts the desire to reassure him aside as her attention rests on the two seated on her couch. Richard; she is angry with but even her anger isn't enough to drown out the feeling of relief at the sight of Henry, his body curled into a tight ball as he sleeps tucked against her familiar, a protective arm around his shoulders.

She meets the human's gaze with a sigh of resignation, shaking her head before she glances over to the window where the sun continues its slow descent. It's still too early to leave the safety of the cabin and though the fact is only another reason to anger her, she grinds her teeth and drops to the cushion opposite the one Henry is on.

"Where did you find him?"

"The Mayor's house," Richard replies as he coaxes the boy from beneath his arm, receiving a mumble of protest for his efforts. "Someone locked him in the basement."

Emma stares down at the body now firmly pressed against her side. She sighs again and runs her fingers through his hair, hoping to keep him asleep as she glances once more between father and son. "What were you two arguing about this time?" she questions, not meaning to sound snappish but unable to help herself, muscles still taut with anger over events beyond her control.

"Your brother thinks he knows where they're keeping Regina," Victor answers, shooting Michael a glare that has his mouth closing without a single word passing his lips. "Says he could feel her around the Library—"

His voice fades into the background at the mention of the Library and Emma stiffens, memory triggered as flashes of some sort of cave enter her mind. Her brow furrows and she remembers an older blonde woman sitting on a rock.

_"…wondering when you would show up."_ Regina's soft husk fills her ears and a shudder ripples through her.

_"…considering a dragon used to live here."_

_"Rumplestiltskin may be twisted enough to use your boy against you but I prefer a more hands on approach, if you recall."_ Emma smiles, hearing Regina's scoff in her ears as if everything is happening in this exact moment. She remembers feeling an echo of jealousy digging beneath her breast before— _I'm beneath the Library - Tell Emma to hurry up, her Queen demands it._

And then there's nothing.

She emerges from her thoughts with a rapid flutter of lashes and notes the eyes on her. She peers down at her son, relieved to find that he continues to sleep on, his fist now clenched within her shirt. She swallows and raises her head, meeting the three sets of eyes. "He's right," she says with a nod to Michael. "She's under the Library."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional tags added for this chapter.

"There is a cabin in the woods." Rumple points to an area on the map that is spread out on the ground as he orders, "Go there. Ask for Emma Swan, and tell her if she wishes to see the Mayor or her son again, to meet me at these co-ordinates."

Feigning sleep, Regina cracks an eye open and bites her lip to stop the laugh bubbling in her chest from escaping. The fact he still seems to think he has the situation under control is not only laughable, but she can already feel the blonde's presence and knows that he's in for the surprise of his life.

* * *

 

"Are you sure she's here?" Michael questions with a frown. Something is interfering with his ability to track and, though he trusts his sister more than anyone, she hasn't exactly been forthcoming about how she seems to know where Regina is located.

"Yes," Emma growls for what has to be at least the fifth time, offering nothing more as she breaks the chains keeping the doors to the library closed with almost no effort. Michael bows his head, subdued by the clear annoyance in her voice as he falls into step with his father, and they follow the blonde into the building.

Standing before the elevator, Emma sighs at the silence and she turns to face them. "I spoke to her when I slept."

Victor glances between his children with a smile. "She found her mate," he explains more freely and Emma rolls her eyes while Michael's widen in response. "They are able to communicate by projecting their more dominant halves while unconscious. If this witch is as powerful as the Elders believe, then it makes sense. Practitioners of magic _are_ often more susceptible to the joining."

"You bound her to you?" Michael questions, voice raised. He had thought he understood the extent of their connection, but he never imagined his sister had found the one person in life that could speak to her very soul.

Emma winces, face contorting in anger and he clears his throat. "Sorry," he apologises with a sheepish smile, forgetting for a second that his voice would echo within the building, and she shakes her head.

"I didn't know," she admits as the elevator starts to move. She spins on her heel at the sound, brow rising and almost disappearing into her hairline as she murmurs, "Well, this should be interesting."

When the doors open to reveal the blonde from her dream, Emma snarls in time with the widening of blue eyes. She lunges for the woman, teeth bared as she curls a hand around a slim throat and slams the blonde against the back wall of the elevator.

"Henry sends his regards," she sneers and cocks her fist, slamming it into the blonde's face with a sickening crunch. She releases her hold and steps back as the woman slides to the ground, turning to find father and son in the exact position she'd left them. "Get in."

* * *

 

Awash with a feeling of satisfaction, Regina grins as she opens her eyes. Rumple notices her waking, and tilts his head curiously at her apparent amusement. "I was beginning to think we'd lost you, Your Majesty."

"As if I would waste my time talking to you when I could pretend to be unconscious," she retorts, ignoring the narrowing of his eyes. "Worry not," she taunts, "you might have a second or two to explain yourself before your demise."

He chuckles, seemingly unfazed by the confidence in her voice. "I see you continue to suffer from the delusion that someone like Emma Swan is capable of caring for you." He steps back from the edge of the chasm and smirks. "You should have listened to your mother, dearie."

With a brief flash in her mind; of cruel eyes and a warning hissed into her ear about love being weakness from a time long since passed _,_ Regina swallows down her instinct to lash out in response to the pain those memories bring and simply smiles. She may doubt her worth from time to time, but the one thing she will never doubt is Emma and what she means to the blonde.

Emma will save her, and Rumple will pay for those words.

* * *

 

As the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open, Emma bends down and fists the material of the unconscious woman's dress as she yanks her to her feet. The blonde groans but doesn't wake, and Emma drapes the woman over her shoulder before stepping into the long, winding tunnel that stretches ahead of them.

In no time at all, Emma hears muffled voices and she increases her pace, eager to see Regina, to make certain the brunette is unharmed before she deals with the man responsible for her anger. Overpowering the blonde hanging over her shoulder had provided a small surge of gratification, but her anger had been quick to rise once more as thoughts of the woman she loves in trouble had burdened her mind.

"Do we have a plan?" Michael asks, deciding they're far enough from the voices that it's safe enough to speak.

"Sure," Emma replies, hand clenching at her side. "When we find Regina, you two will take her out of here while I dispose of the imp and his bimbo friend."

Michael smirks. "You think Regina will just let us leave you by yourself?"

Emma stops and turns to him with a frown, realising the truth of his words. She doesn't do rescue operations. As a bounty hunter, she's used to finding and subduing people. Michael would sometimes accompany her, itching for something fun to do that didn't involve dealing with the covens and she usually allowed him free reign, as long as he didn't kill their target.

There is no way Regina is going to willingly leave her behind, and there is even less chance of Michael laying a hand on her—not that Emma would even consider letting him touch the brunette to begin with.

"Alright," she concedes, sighing as she raises a hand to her temple. "We'll find Regina and let her decide what she wants to do, but if something goes wrong, you have to get her out of here."

"I'll make sure she gets out safely," Michael assures her. "You just make sure you do the same; I'm too pretty to die if something happens to you."

Emma laughs quietly and resumes walking. He might be kidding, but Emma knows the kind of mind Regina possesses and even without magic, she thinks the brunette would give him a run for his money. There's no denying his strength, but the former Queen is cunning, smart—unbelievably so, and if anyone is capable of getting one up on a werewolf, she wouldn't be surprised if Regina were it.

Reaching the end of the tunnel, she lifts her hand to bring them to a stop but as she turns, Michael growls and pushes passed her. She swears under her breath, pulling the blonde from her shoulder and shoving the woman into her father's arms, grinding her teeth as she follows after her brother.

The tunnel opens out into a wide cavern and she can see a small flicker of light at the far end. Senses heightened, she steps out into the room and her nostrils flare as she catches the scent of what she can only assume is the cause of Michael's careless reaction.

Quietly making her way to the other side of the cavern, she carefully avoids making too much noise and flattens herself against a large boulder a few feet from where she sees Regina chained to the wall. Her lips curl as her eyes zero in on the small trail of blood seeping from a wound across Regina's forehead.

Gold paces in front of her, muttering to himself, unaware of the shadow inching closer to him. Emma steps out from her hiding place, further drawing his attention as his head snaps up and his eyes light with recognition, something closely resembling excitement in his expression.

"Ah Miss Swan," he drawls and raises his hand, making her aware of the gun he'd kept hidden at his side as he aligns the barrel with Regina's forehead. "Glad you could join us."

"Don't miss," she says, the threat clear as she fully emerges and steps into the light.

"At this range, dearie, I don't think I need to worry about that," he dismisses the warning with a chuckle. "I take it your presence means I shouldn't expect my little helper to return any time soon."

Emma smiles sweetly and with a subtle shake of her head as she spots Michael come within range of the man, she forgoes an answer as she questions, "Why don't you tell me what this is about, Gold? Kidnapping a child and his mother, what could you possibly hope to gain by it?"

He clucks his tongue in disapproval. "I don't respond well to people who play games, Miss Swan; you know why you're here and what I want."

She hums an acknowledgement. "I suppose it was only a matter of time before you realised I wasn't going to break your curse," she admits with a shrug. "What I don't understand is why you went to all the trouble of having Regina cast it in the first place if you were just going to break it."

"My reasons aren't your concern, Miss Swan."

Eyebrow rising, she crosses her arms and responds, "You want me to break it, the least you can do is tell me why." As she speaks, the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and she glances to Regina, flashing a smile as she notes chestnut eyes watching her. "You okay?"

Regina returns the smile and nods, eyes flicking to the gun still pointed at her as she grimaces. "Really, Rumple? We both know you're not going to kill me."

Emma turns back to the man, smirking as she notes the scowl that confirms Regina's claim. The smirk drops as he brings the gun around, aiming it at her instead as he smiles. "She's right; I have no intention of killing her—you, on the other hand."

"It took me a while to figure it out," she muses aloud and he frowns. "Who you are," she clarifies at his confusion. "You seemed familiar when we first met. I'm surprised I didn't realise it sooner, to be completely honest. I suppose I didn't want to think about it."

She hadn't planned to reveal her discovery before she ripped him to shreds, but she'd always had an aversion to guns and she _really_ didn't appreciate having one pointed at her. "He would have told you to pull the trigger by now," she informs. "Baelfire, right? He's the reason you cast the curse."

A vicious smile curls her lips and she raises her hand, tapping a finger against her head as she takes another step toward him. "You should be thanking me," she chuckles, "His memories of you aren't very flattering, Rumplestiltskin."

No longer able to keep his composure, anger clouds his expression and he snaps, "What are you talking about?"

"Now who's playing games?" she replies, mimicking his earlier response as she clucks her tongue. "Somehow, you discovered Henry was your grandson and when he was old enough, you used him to bring me here in the hope that I would break the curse so you could go out into the big wide world and find your son."

Coming to stand a few inches in front of him, she stops. "You should have tried harder," she snarls. "Your son abandoned me, left me to pay for his crimes while I was pregnant, and now he's _dead_."

Regina shouts her name a second before the gunshot echoes through the cavern and Emma jerks as the bullet pierces her chest, ripping through flesh and bone before it's stopped by her heart. Michael looses a feral growl and lunges, slamming into Rumple from behind and taking them both to the ground as Emma stares down at the blood seeping through her shirt.

Blinking, she raises her head in time to see Michael transform and she surges forward, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him from the man, sending him skidding across the floor as she tosses him back. She reaches down and grabs Rumple by the hair, retrieving his gun as well before dragging him over to where Regina hangs. She throws him down at the brunette's feet, stepping over his legs and bringing her boot down on of both his ankles.

Moving back to Regina, Emma yanks both metal cuffs from the wall and catches her around the waist as her knees buckle under the sudden weight. Emma presses a kiss to a bloodied temple as Regina releases a shuddered breath and buries her head in the crook of her neck.

"What do you want me to do with him?" Emma questions softly. She knows what she wants to do, staring down at him as memories continue playing through her head. She wants to rip his throat out, wants to hear him scream, to watch as he chokes to death on his own blood.

Regina pulls back with a growl and takes the gun from her hand. She turns, saying nothing as she aims and empties the chamber into his skull.

As she fires the last shot, the ground begins to shake beneath them, knocking them to the floor as black smoke begins to swirl around Rumple's body. Their eyes meet, thoughts mirroring one another as Emma questions, "The curse is breaking, isn't it?"

Biting her lip, Regina looks around them and nods. "He created it, it makes sense that it would break if he died."

Standing, Emma dusts herself off and extends her hand as she helps Regina up. "I don't suppose you know what happens now?"

"Your guess is as good as m…" Regina trails off, eyes widening as something flies toward them. She launches herself at the blonde, throwing them back to the ground as a large, scaled tail whistles through the air above their heads.

Lifting her head as a roar echoes throughout the cavern, Emma grunts and rolls them as the tail comes back around for another attempt, narrowly missing them as it smashes into the ground. "Remind me to kill her next time," she growls, tugging Regina to her feet and throwing her over a shoulder.

In a matter of seconds, she's relocated them to the relative safety of the tunnel and Regina sways, lightheaded and feeling nauseated as her feet touch the ground. "Please don't ever do that again," she murmurs, placing a hand over her stomach. Emma offers an apologetic smile before she disappears, seemingly nothing more than a blur as she moves through the cavern too quickly for Regina to pinpoint her exact location.

Less than a minute passes before a man she doesn't recognise is deposited at her feet and she kneels down, frowning as she reaches out to check his pulse. He's alive, which she supposes is a good thing if Emma thought he was worth saving. She tries to stand again but loses her balance, hand slapping against the wall as the ground quakes for a second time and a thick cloud of that same black smoke from earlier steals her sight.


	19. Chapter 19

As soon as the smoke had cleared, Regina knew they were back in the Enchanted Forest. People were yelling, laughing and hugging, reuniting with families and loved ones and while she was certainly confused about their return, there was only one thought going through her mind when she rose from the ground.

Was everyone brought back with them, or was it just those affected by her curse to begin with?

Her head whips about, searching for the blonde and their son before her gaze is drawn to herself as a breeze whispers across her chest. Her eyes widen at the outfit she wears, memories of that fateful hour in which she cast the curse flashing through her mind, and she snaps her fingers, signature purple smoke encasing her body as her cheeks heat with a blush.

The last thing she needs is her son to see her as the Evil Queen he's been harping on about for the last three months, regardless of whether or not she's still the same woman she was then. She doesn't think she is, but then again, what would she know? Evil rarely think of itself as evil to begin with. It isn't as though she gave herself the moniker of Evil Queen—no, she simply embraced it the day she gave up trying to be someone else.

Caught within her musings as she is, she doesn't notice the circle slowly forming around her and only when someone clears their throat does she look up, bringing her face to face with none other than Snow White. "Regina," the former schoolteacher declares, "For the crimes you've committed against those of the Enchanted Forest…"

Regina interrupts with a loud bark of laughter before she notices the expressions on the faces of those surrounding her, and she stops. "Oh, you're serious," she drawls, eyes darting around until they light upon Michael who slowly rises from the ground and dusts himself off.

He meets her gaze just as someone grabs her by the arms and she stiffens. "I'd let go of me, if I were you," she warns, a smirk beginning to grace her lips as she watches the werewolf push his way through the crowd. She feels the hiss of breath against her ear but before her captor can respond with whatever Neanderthal drivel he's concocted, there's a gasp as Michael brushes passed Snow White and grabs him by the throat.

"Unless you want me to crush your windpipe, let her go," he growls.

Regina steps out from between them as the hands holding her wrists behind her back release and she makes a move to step forward, only for Snow White to step in front of her. "Where do you think you're going?"

Eyes flashing with her growing anger, Regina takes another step forward. Her lips curl in a sneer as Snow feigns bravado by standing her ground, and she rolls her eyes as the woman tries to speak again. She doesn't have time for this.

Waving a hand, Regina throws the bane of her existence into the line of people barring her way. Snow White's cry of surprise sends the rest of them scurrying and Regina shakes her head. "Idiots," she mutters, sending a glare to anyone who so much as looks as though they're going to try and stop her as she storms passed.

Michael hurries after her, ignoring the rest of them as he falls into step beside her. He extends his hand and points toward the line of trees. "I can sense her over there," he states and she nods, veering off in the direction of his finger.

Breaking through the forest and into a clearing, she spots the familiar blonde curls and quickens. The snap of a twig alerts Emma to their presence and she turns from her perch upon a log, glancing to them over her shoulder before she averts her gaze.

Regina's brow furrows and she notes the same man from the tunnel at the blonde's feet, wondering still who he is before she's struck with realization. "Where's Henry?" she questions, panic edging its way into her voice.

Silence reigns and she's overcome with trepidation as Emma stares down at the man, watching the rise and fall of his chest. "She took him," she murmurs—almost too quietly, but Regina hears and sharply draws in a breath as Emma's tone hardens. "I tried to lead her away from everyone else, but he followed me and she took him."

"Maleficent," Regina hisses. Panic gives way to full blown anger and she shouts, "How could you let her take him?"

With a growl, Emma launches herself from the log and spins to face them. She surges forward as she snarls, "I didn't  _let_ her do anything."

Shocked by the anger emanating from the blonde, Regina rears back and Emma darts forward, catching her as she stumbles on a stray branch and almost falls to the ground. She stares up into dark emerald eyes, seeing disappointment and frustration swirling within their depths as she wonders at the calm she suddenly feels.

She almost wants to laugh at the fact she thinks of Emma as an easier target for her anger, considering what she is. She should have known Maleficent would want revenge for what she did to her, and blaming Emma isn't fair. Her own choices had led to Henry's abduction—it was no one's fault besides her own.

Emma softens the longer they stare, and eventually she offers a faint smile. "My father is unconscious and Michael was with you," she explains as she sets Regina back on her feet. "I didn't know she was a witch and I can't defend against magic. It didn't exist, so I wasn't taught how."

"She isn't," Regina sighs and shakes her head at herself. "She was a fairy who learned how to shape shift before she lost her wings; she's not even a real dragon."

Emma hums, as if considering the information, and that's when another realization dawns on Regina. "Did you say that man is your  _father_?"

Biting her lip to stifle her laugh at the look of alarm on Regina's face, Emma nods slowly and Michael decides to speak up then as he interjects. "He fostered her, which is how she met me."

"Oh," Regina breathes, looking between the apparent family members. She frowns, eyes setting on the prone form a few feet from them. "What's wrong with him?"

Her attention drifts back to Emma as the blonde raises a hand, rubbing the back of her neck as she replies, "I uh… suggested he should sleep." Michael snickers beside Regina and she glances to him, eyebrow raised.

"She used her powers on him," he clarifies, smirking as he looks to the blonde and adds, "He's going to kill you."

"Yeah well," Emma replies, sounding resigned. "You'd think a six hundred-and-something year old werewolf would know not to shift with broken bones, but no."

Emma sighs, briefly looking over at her father before she turns to Regina. "Do you know where she'd take him?"

"Her castle," Regina answers simply, knowing Maleficent wouldn't have made it difficult for her to find them. Her best guess is that she hopes to make an exchange; her for Henry, which she might have considered once upon a time.

"I'm going to need help," she muses aloud, moving to stand beside the man on the ground as her thoughts turn to Charming and his insipid wife.

* * *

When the four of them emerge from the trees close to an hour later, almost everyone stops what they're doing to turn and stare at their approach. Emma ignores them all in favour of the woman murmuring in her ear, and she follows a slim, pointed finger with her gaze as Regina indicates which of them her biological parents are before the brunette tugs her in their direction.

Emma sighs, but allows herself to be lead while she pretends not to see the way that everyone is openly glaring at the brunette. Regina warned her of the reception she should expect, which had prompted her in grabbing the hand currently being used as some sort of leash as Regina pulls her along—united front and all that, she'd explained at the questioning look she received for doing so.

Standing before the supposed King and Queen, Emma stares into the fire behind them. Old Emma—old, human Emma, would have had plenty to say to them. She was curious about them, once, but not anymore. Unless she was in one of her rare moods, she tended not to dwell on the past and it would be pointless to give them hope, to let them believe they will ever mean something to her.

"Emma?" Snow strives to move closer as she utters her daughter's name but stops when the blonde's stare remains fixed over her shoulder. Emma's step back is subtle but not missed as the woman then turns to Regina and growls, "What did you do to her?"

Emma can hear the smirk in her voice when Regina replies, "I'm afraid I can't take credit for this, dear, although I will admit it  _is_ rather gratifying to see the distress in your eyes."

The King— _Charming_ Emma recalls the name Regina had used to refer to him—moves. To do what, she neither knows nor cares as she places herself between them. "Touch her and she'll be the least of your worries."

He stills, a conflicted expression on his face as he meets the glare in her eyes. He clenches his jaw after a moment and returns to stand beside his wife, leveling Regina with a glare of his own as he growls, "What do you want, witch?"

Regina chuckles and places a hand at the small of Emma's back, encouraging her to move. Emma does, returning to her side and recapturing the hand as she entwines their fingers. Regina smiles, content while she forgets for a brief second that it isn't just the two of them there.

She sighs, tampering her disdain for her former step-daughter and the woman's idiotic husband as she states, "My son is missing."

"I'm sure he's better off wherever he is," Charming mutters and Regina rolls her eyes at his childishness, though Emma speaks before she can comment on it.

"You, who sent your new born daughter to another world via wardrobe to be raised by someone else, don't get to have an opinion," she snaps impatiently. "Our son, your  _grandson_ is missing. If you're not going to help us get him back, say so and we'll leave rather than waste time listening to you being an immature jackass."

Regina squeezes her hand, glancing off to the side in an effort to suppress her laughter, where she catches sight of Michael grinning from ear to ear, and snorts. She sighs, turning back in time witness the confusion on Snow and Charming's faces slowly morph into dismay.

"You two are…

"But you weren't…"

Snow and Charming speak at the same time and Emma huffs. "I gave Henry up for adoption, Regina adopted him, and we're together." She raises a hand when both try to speak again and adds, "I'm not interested in anything you have to say unless it involves Henry and whether or not you're going to help us."

"I'll help."

Emma blinks at the new voice and turns around. She raises an eyebrow at Richard and the young brunette next to him. "No offense, but I don't see how a waitress is going to help against a dragon," she says, though not unkindly as she notes the arm her familiar has around the woman's waist.

"She's a werewolf too," Regina informs the blonde with a smirk.

"Too?" the waitress questions simultaneously with Snow's gasp of, "Dragon?"

Ignoring all three of them, Emma glances over at Michael. "You didn't think to tell me there was another werewolf in Storybrooke?"

He scoffs. "I told you she smelled funny."

"You're one to talk."

"Children," Victor interrupts gruffly. Emma can't help smiling as it reminds her of all the times she had bickered with Michael as a kid, only to have their father's voice put a stop to it with that single word. "We have more important things to discuss than each other's scent."

"Maleficent?" Snow guesses with a glance to Regina, and the brunette inclines her head in confirmation. "What'd you do to her?"

Regina shrugs. "She wouldn't give me the curse and I had to resort to threatening her precious unicorn. It bothered me, so I trapped her beneath the Library in her dragon form for the last twenty-eight years."

"Don't you think you went a bit overboard?"

Her eyes flit to Charming and she tilts her head, a cruel smile playing along her lips as thoughts of her son fill her mind and she replies, "Not any more."

 


	20. Chapter 20

When Emma agreed to ask Snow White and Prince Charming for help, she didn't know that meant sitting around for the better part of three hours listening to them all argue back and forth.

In that time, she has come to a number of conclusions about the residents of the Enchanted Forest, but none more irritating than their apparent love of hearing their own voices. If first impressions truly do dictate ones future relationships with a person, then Emma is confident her body count is likely to double in the coming days.

Snow is the lesser of two bad choices she has to make. She is opinionated, judgmental and every so often, Emma has to grit her teeth and bare a certain longing look but otherwise, her homicidal tendencies are minimal in comparison to Charming, who still thinks it wise to goad Regina. Regina mostly ignores his childish attempts, but Emma has memorized each and every one as a reason for what she is about to do.

Slipping a finger beneath the hand on her thigh—the hand that previously prevented her from launching herself across the campfire to behead her biological father—she flings it away and stands, drawing the attention of everyone around her with the clearing of her throat. "As thrilling as this is," she begins, pausing to meet each of their gazes before she continues. "What Regina thought to achieve by approaching you both was accomplished over an hour ago. Ru—"

She catches herself, reminded of the former waitress' earlier words to her as she corrects, "Red… Graham, Michael, Victor and Snow will accompany us while the rest stay behind and do…" She trails off with a shrug and adds, "Well, I don't honestly care."

"Emma," Snow starts and after three hours of listening to her, Emma is all too familiar with the sound of her voice; she knows the woman is about to protest some, if not all, of what she just said.

"If you don't wish to join us," she interrupts, turning to face her, "then you're more than welcome to stay behind. If, however, you are about to suggest I include the imbecile sat beside you, I'm afraid I must decline as I am unable to promise control over my impulse to tear him limb from limb."

Snow shoots to her feet with the threat, but when she opens her mouth to speak, she's interrupted once more as Regina offers a warning. "Your daughter is a nightwalker, Snow; it would be unwise to antagonize her. If she believes herself a danger to your husband, you would both do well to heed her."

There is a moment in which Snow looks as though she's going to argue regardless, but she seems to think better of it and with a shake of her head, she sends Charming an apologetic look. Emma watches their interaction with a curious tilt of their head, noting a silent conversation occurring between them before both sets of shoulders appear to deflate in—resignation, she guesses.

With that argument settled, she turns back to Regina. "The sun is close to rising," she says, a faint smile pulling at her lips as chestnut eyes widen in realization. "You need not panic. I noticed a cave while luring Maleficent away, it should suffice for the day."

Regina stands with a nod, taking her by the hand as she urges, "Lead the way, my dear."

Ignoring the peculiar looks she receives from those unaccustomed to seeing the two interact, Emma allows the smile to come fully and presses a kiss to her cheek before she beckons to Michael and Victor. "Come along, boys, we have a cave to explore," she grins, and then glances over her shoulder to Snow. "We will leave tomorrow night."

Snow bites her lip and Emma waits, seeing the words on the tip of a tongue reflected in eyes much like her own. The moment passes in silence, however, and Snow inclines her head less than a minute later. Emma hums thoughtfully, but returns her attention to Regina and the two wolves patiently waiting for her to lead them to the cave.

"Let's go."

* * *

Emma assures her the cave is dug far enough back into the mountain and that everything will be fine, but it isn't until the sun rises that Regina relaxes into the warmth emanating against her back. Emma had offered to compel her to sleep before being forced into her own slumber but she turned it down, having developed—in their short time together—a preference for staying awake as Emma drifts off.

Feelings of peace, of safety always seem to surround them as the sun steals the blonde from her, and Regina uses what little remains of her time in the waking world to bask in those feelings. It's difficult to know how much of that time passes before her eyelids grow heavy and though she wants to stay awake a little while longer, she doesn't fight her body as they inevitably close.

With the stress of her abduction, the effort involved in denying her fear the chance to surface in the face of her enemies and the minor, yet no less tiring use of her magic against Snow earlier had all coalesced— blended together and drained most of her strength. She needs sleep, despite her wants, and she lacks the will to resist its enticing pull.

She dreams of a dragon and child,  _her_ child; a look of abject terror seared into her brain as he screams for her help. She dreams of fire and brimstone, of hangings and executions. Visions of blood and bodies fill her thoughts but each image replaces the previous in the blink of an eye and it doesn't last.

Warmth engulfs her from every side, seeping into her skin, her mind—her  _soul_  and she sighs, content as she finds herself submerged in a mess of blonde hair, of emerald eyes and an impish grin that seems to burrow into the very depths of her heart. She discovers happiness in the brush of lips and the soft caress of hands, in a teasing smirk and strong, beautiful laughter.

When she wakes, it is to a softness beneath her and arms wrapped firmly about her waist, unable to recall anything more than the whispered words of love and a promise. A promise of what, she doesn't know but the reminder causes a tightening in her chest and she knows it was something good.

Her eyes flutter open and she sees the sun still high in the sky before her gaze is drawn to the lean form of Victor who stands with his back against the wall, head turning from the entrance to look over at them. He smiles and there is something there, buried down in her gut that tells her to trust him, and so she smiles in return, cheek pressed to the sternum of the woman she loves.

"Hungry?"

The gravelly sound of his voice reminds her of memories long repressed and, even as she feels the tear trickle out from the corner of an eye and skate down her cheek, she smiles wider. "Famished," she replies, pushing aside the thoughts of her childhood and the tender care of a father no longer there to soothe her aches.

He reaches for something down by his feet and though her sight is blurred, she follows the movement with her eyes. As he closes the distance between them and places it beside her, she realizes what he held was a basket and gingerly moves from her position atop the blonde to look inside.

Wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand, she glances down and discovers the basket is filled with berries of all sizes and colour. "Michael thought you might prefer something with more flavour than charred meat," Victor explains. "He promised to bring something more filling when he returns."

"I appreciate the gesture." Taking a handful, she crosses her legs and looks up at him as she says, "I confess, despite his insistence that we are friends, I'm somewhat surprised he thought of me at all."

Victor shakes his head with a chuckle. "You are important to Emma, therefore you are important to us," he counters and the inclusion of himself stills the sarcastic remark on the tip of her tongue. At her continued silence, he adds, "Michael can be rather sweet when he isn't being…"

"Himself?" She suggests as he trails off, drawing another chuckle and a nod of the head.

"Yes," he agrees. "Though I would not change either of my children, as headache inducing as I sometimes find them both to be."

"Emma seems fairly tolerable," she remarks and feigns ignorance to the knowing look he sends her. "At least when she isn't terrifying our son." He grunts, as if in agreement, and she can't help but be curious by the response. She tilts her head, eyebrow cocked in question as she pops a berry into her mouth.

He returns to his former position against the wall before he acknowledges the look. "She has always been overprotective. I had another son—a little younger than she was, went to the same school together," he explains. "They didn't get along very well; Emma was always  _too distant_  and he was… he loved to be the center of attention."

"She does seem to be unfavourable toward the type," Regina interjects with a smirk, recalling Emma's response to Charming and his constant interruptions earlier that morning.

"I lost count of the times I had to break up an argument between them," he continues. "Almost every day I'd come home to find them yelling at each other about one thing or another—typical sibling rivalry."

"I wouldn't know about that." He raises an eyebrow and Regina clears her throat before she clarifies, "Being an only child with a strict mother doesn't leave many opportunities to experience other children, nor childhood for that matter."

"I see." His expression turns thoughtful and she notes his gaze drift to Emma before he sighs and offers a shrug, returning them to the conversation at hand. "She may not have particularly liked Corvin, but that didn't stop her from breaking the nose of one of the boys at school for making him cry."

Regina smiles at that. It's easy to imagine a young Emma Swan jumping to the defense of—anyone really, regardless of what she may or may not feel about them. She soon sighs, however, dismissing the thought as it occurs to her that Victor has been referring to his son in the past tense.

"I take it Corvin is no longer among the living," she comments, slipping the remainder of the berries in her hand back into the basket before she stands. "Perhaps it is none of my business, but I find myself curious nevertheless."

Victor averts his gaze but even as he does so, he speaks. "He didn't survive the transition," he answers, a gruffness returning to his voice that it seems to lack when speaking of Emma. "Some pups aren't strong enough to withstand the pain of their first shift."

It has been some time since Regina last had a conversation with someone that wasn't about the ins and outs of running a small town, but she thinks both of them have had enough for one day. There are questions she could ask, maybe even wants to ask but she regrets her prying even before he is done, neither able nor wanting to imagine what it's like to lose a child, and she allows the silence that follows to engulf them as she moves toward the mouth of the cave.

Her thoughts shift between Henry and Emma as she stares out into the forest that stretches before them. It will take them days to reach Maleficent's castle and she wonders how long before Emma loses her temper with one of their tag-a-longs. She had already had to stop the blonde from violently beating her own father, much to her own dismay. Once upon a time, she would have thought it a cold day in hell before she protected Prince Charming from anyone, and yet she knows she had done it for her son.

Their son. Henry, who had gotten himself abducted merely to sate a curiosity despite having read the stories from her world and knowing the dangers. Emma had been right those first few nights; she  _is_ too soft on him. For as long as she can remember, she has allowed him to get away with his behaviour without consequence, out of fear. Fear that if she so much as raised her voice to him, he would stop loving her.

Closing her eyes at the realization, Regina shakes her head with a disbelieving laugh. For years she spent fighting, wishing for control over her life, only to give that control to a child who had used it against her, as all those before him had.

"Are you alright?"

She startles and snaps her eyes open, turning to face Victor as he comes to stand beside her. He offers an uncertain smile and another laugh slips free before she inclines her head. "Yes," she assures. "But it seems my son and I are in desperate need of a talk once we find him."

* * *

When Michael returns to the cave, a boar strung over his shoulder, Regina grimaces at the mess he's covered in and snags the knife from his belt before she sends him back out to find a stream to bathe in. As she prepares the animal to be cooked, night falls and Emma awakens. She can feel the eyes on her, watching her every move as if she were a foreign specimen to be studied in depth.

The thought causes a smile to tug at her lips, having a fairly good idea of what Emma is thinking.

When she finally looks up, catching the blonde amidst her scrutiny, she's met with a grin. "You're even more attractive with a knife in your hand," Emma comments and Regina responds with a throaty laugh.

Passing the knife to Victor and leaving him to keep an eye on the meat, she stands and walks over to her. "That was far less crass than I was expecting," she confesses, placing a hand on the blonde's shoulder as she bends down for a kiss.

Emma reaches for that same hand, raising it and entwining their fingers as she grabs a hip and tugs Regina down into her lap. "My father  _is_ right there," she grouses, silencing another laugh as she claims her lips in a sweet kiss.

Before either of them decide to deepen it, a throat clears and Regina pulls back with a sigh. She looks over her shoulder to Victor, who points to the entrance of the cave with his knife. Her eyes narrow, finding Snow White standing there with a look caught somewhere between annoyance and disgust.

"What do you want?" Regina spits, releasing a huff of frustration as Emma rubs her hip soothingly. She turns back to the blonde, eyebrow raised. "That may work for you, dear, but not her."

Emma smiles knowingly, lifting her hands in a placating gesture before she leans back on them. "My Queen," she murmurs deferentially.

Regina swallows dryly, ignoring the heat that explodes in her stomach upon hearing the title as she stands and faces Snow. She crosses her arms, a slight sneer curling her lips as she waits for the woman to answer the question.

"We were wondering when Emma wants to leave," Snow says, eyes darting between the two women as though she's unsure who the safer option to look at is. "We also wanted to know the plan for once we get to Maleficent's castle."

"We'll leave once my brother has returned and everyone has eaten," Emma replies, rising from the ground and joining Regina at her side. "As for the plan, I don't know how capable Maleficent is but if there's a chance she could be watching us, then I'd rather not provide details until absolutely necessary."

Regina glances to her with a smirk. "You mean you actually  _have_ a plan this time?"

Emma matches the smirk with one of her own. "I had a plan last time," she defends. "Save you, kill Rumple. You're alive, he's dead; I'd say it worked pretty well."

"And what of the dragon who kidnapped our son?" Regina questions with a playful chuckle and roll of her eyes. "Was that part of your plan?"

"Well…" Emma pauses, scrunching her nose adorably before she retorts, "If  _someone_ had warned me she was going to turn back into a dragon, I might have tried a little harder to subdue her."

Regina looks away with a smile, amused as she shakes her head at the blonde. She stills upon catching the expression that flitters over Snow's expression, curious but no less irritated by her presence. "What?" she snaps, startling Snow who immediately scowls to cover the look.

"Nothing," she bites back before she turns from them. "Let us know when you're ready," she throws over her shoulder and Regina frowns, even more curious as she watches Snow disappear from sight.


	21. Chapter 21

For three days they mostly travel in silence due to Emma's clear refusal to participate in her mother's inane chatter. There is a squabble here and there, but it is by far more civil than they have any right to expect and Regina for one is thankful for the lack of drama.

On the fourth day, however, they run into a bit of a problem when it comes time to set camp. Having stuck to the forests surrounding the Kingdoms, they've been relying on caves for shelter, but on this day there hasn't been one for miles and the sun is close to rising. Emma, Victor and Michael remain calm, while everyone else panics—the exception being Regina who merely decides it's a nice time to rest and finds a log to sit on.

Snow, Graham and Red wander further off into the forest, claiming there has to be  _something_  but as soon as they're out of earshot, Regina stares hard, too tired to decipher the joke as she watches the three family members grin at one another. Had their love for tormenting the group as a unit not become apparent on the second day when they decided to scare everyone half to death by vanishing without a trace, she might have been more confused than wary.

"Should I be worried or am I wasting what little energy I have left?" she questions, eyeing all three of them. Both men look to her with sheepish expressions but she finds her gaze wandering to the blonde as Emma gestures a few feet ahead.

With simultaneous nods, Victor and Michael move to where Emma has indicated and the very air seems to still for a moment. Regina stops breathing as she witnesses their transformations, eyes glued to the sight. The one and only time she has ever seen a werewolf shift, she remembers feeling nauseated as it had looked entirely too painful to be worth the trouble, yet this time she watches in awe as the two make it seem almost effortless.

Before long, two wolves take their place and she manages to suck in a breath as she admires their sleek, muscled forms. Michael has a beautiful black coat that appears to shimmer silver beneath the waning moonlight whereas Victor is a stark contrast to his son; his white fur sticking out like a sore thumb, though no less stunning to behold.

Her curiosity is piqued further when they begin to dig, and she turns her attention to Emma as the blonde takes a seat beside her. "What are they doing?"

Emma tilts her head back, gazing up at the treetops as she replies casually, "Preparing a burial." Regina stares at her in confusion, waiting until Emma registers the silence and returns her stare before she summons the necessary strength to lift an eyebrow.

"They're going to bury me," Emma clarifies and her outrage must show as Emma then grins, attempting to reassure her as she says, "Relax. I've had to do this a couple of times and it's perfectly safe, trust me."

_Try_  being the operative word, as Regina is in no way reassured. She read the stories as a child and knows nightwalkers would sometimes bury themselves in order to hide from their enemies, or to gain the element of surprise as they ambush their victims, but that had nothing to do with where her mind went.

"It isn't a matter of trust," she explains, appalled by the slight whine in her voice but unable to prevent it as the one thing that kept her going all day is about to be taken from her. "I  _like_ falling asleep with you."

A look of surprise crosses Emma's expression before the grin returns and Regina bites her lip, too slow to hide the flush of cheeks. She can't help it. She's exhausted, which she has come to find translates into an unfamiliar feeling of neediness directed wholly towards the blonde. She wishes she could turn it off, but she can't and even if she could, she doubts her current state would allow it.

"I'm sorry," Emma offers as she shifts closer and slips an arm around her waist. Regina sighs and leans her head against a shoulder, letting her eyes close for a moment as Emma's voice washes over her. "If there's some way you can show Michael or Victor where we're going, I could send them out ahead of us a few hours before sunrise to find us somewhere to sleep."

Regina hums. A few spells come to mind that could do as Emma suggests but her magic hasn't returned quite as well as she was lead to believe when she woke, and considering how tired she is—unused to all this traipsing about the forest after twenty years stuck behind a desk—she's confident she's far more likely to erase their memories should she delve into their minds as such spells require.

The snap of twigs and murmured voices alert her to the return of Graham, Snow and Red, however, and she admits none of this as she winds a hand around Emma's thigh to stop her from pulling away. Whether out of courtesy, or simply to avoid the headache that is Snow White, Emma has kept their displays of affection to a minimum while within the woman's presence and, though she respects the decision under normal circumstances, she isn't about to relinquish the moment when she has to endure an entire sleep without.

"What's going—" Snow cuts herself off with a gasp and even though she can't see the action, Regina rolls her eyes beneath closed lids. "Is that…"

"Victor and Michael," Emma answers, the tips of her fingers slipping beneath Regina's shirt to stroke her hip. Regina smiles and huddles closer, breathing a soft, content sigh against her neck. "We're going to make camp here."

"Is that a grave?" Red pipes up. "And how are they controlling themselves?"

Regina stifles a laugh as she can feel Emma heave a sigh before the blonde responds, "Yes it is a grave, and they've had centuries to learn to control their wolves. If you're nice and less hostile towards my brother, he might even teach you so you don't have to wear that eyesore of a cloak everywhere."

" _I'm_ hostile?" Red responds disbelievingly. "Wait, what do you have against the cloak?"

Emma chuckles, the vibration so low that it sends tingles all down Regina's spine and she feels as though her body floats along the sound. "I keep expecting a bull to come charging through the forest and chase after you," Emma teases with a smirk in her voice.

Red feigns a laugh. "You're hilarious," she deadpans, calling forth another chuckle from the blonde that has Regina smiling into the crook of her neck as she recalls a similar night they spent with their son at the cabin.

_"Everything is perfect,"_  she remembers Emma saying, almost as if the blonde has just now whispered them to her. She wants to ask—wants to know if Emma had, but her tongue feels suddenly heavy in her mouth and that night is the last thought she has before sleep claims her.

* * *

"How did it start?"

Having overheard Snow on previous nights attempting to get the story from everyone else, Michael knows he's her last resort—at least without going straight to the source, which he also knows she won't do. His father, Graham and Red don't know the story and Richard may as well be in the same boat, as he had refused her the second she approached him.

"Emma and Regina?" he queries, seeking clarification and shrugging when Snow nods. "Knowing my sister, there's likely a lot of sex involved."

Rising from the log moved there earlier that morning so he could watch over his sister from a semi-comfortable position, he takes the few short steps to where she's buried. He needs to prepare for when night falls and Emma has to emerge, and he glances to Snow as he settles on his knees beside the grave.

He expects disgust, or at least some form of disapproval but her expression remains as curious as it had been when he first noticed her approach and he shakes his head. Apparently discouraging the woman from prying will be more difficult than he first thought. "Can you fetch Regina for me?"

Snow frowns. "Why?"

"Because," he sighs, rolling his eyes as he begins to thin the layer of dirt protecting Emma from the sun. "Emma will need to feed when she wakes and I'd rather she not be in a bad mood for the rest of the evening because she had to settle for one of us."

"Feed?"

He groans. The woman's penchant for asking questions is starting to remind him of Henry. "Do you know nothing of your own world beyond being a spoiled Princess, or are you actually trying to drive me to murder?"

"She tends to have that affect on people," Regina interjects, amused as she walks up behind them. Snow turns to her with a glare, which she promptly dismisses with a sniff and saunters passed, stopping once she is beside the werewolf. "Nightwalkers need blood to survive, Snow, and Emma happens to prefer mine."

"Oh."

Wherever else their conversation might lead, both women startle when Michael releases a shout of surprise, jerking back from where he'd been leaning over the grave as a fist erupts from the dirt and narrowly avoids hitting him the face.

When he stands with a muttered, "She did that on purpose," Regina feels herself relax as she waves him off with a smirk.

She taps into her magic and clasps Emma by the arm, briefly enhancing her strength as she pulls her free. "Hello dear," she purrs, catching her around the waist as the blonde stumbles forward. Emma flashes a disoriented smile as Regina then raises a hand and swipes the dirt from her cheek. "You're filthy."

Snow mumbles something under her breath that Regina ignores, caressing Emma's jaw before she glides a hand down her neck, over a shoulder and to the hand at her side. "Come," she says with a tug, entwining their fingers and turning them toward the lake she'd found earlier. "You can feed while you bathe."

As they disappear into the trees, Michael chuckles lowly upon seeing the look that follows them and he raises his hands in surrender as Snow redirects her scowl to him. "If you ever want Emma to speak to you, you're going to have to accept her relationship with Regina," he offers, seeing the woman falter as her eyes dart to the ground.

"She doesn't connect well with people," he explains, knowing he shouldn't be telling her this. "When she does there isn't a thing in the world she won't do for them and her connection to Regina; nothing will ever be as strong as that."

Snow lifts her head and sighs, shooting a look back over her shoulder before turning back to him. "Are you trying to tell me they are in love?"

Michael shakes his head and laughs. "I have no doubt Regina loves her and I'm sure Emma would love her just as much, if not more. But love is nothing, it is an emotion without true meaning and what they have far transcends that."

He can see the disbelief, and he almost gives up. He can barely understand the connection himself—what hope does Snow White have when someone whose sole purpose is to live with and protect Emma's kind doesn't fully understand them? Yet, he can see something else. Maybe it's the fact she isn't arguing with him, or doesn't outright accuse him of lying to her that he tries.

"You've seen them," he says. "Not when they're conscious of us, but when it's just the two of them, stuck in their own little world together. It's as if they have whole conversations without a single word and when you look at them, watch them, you feel—"

"Lucky," Snow finishes, mouth curving in a small smile. "I do see it."

There is a sadness in that smile, but there's also the beginnings of acceptance and it gives him hope that maybe the tension they've all been dealing with might finally ease some. He nods, breathing a soft sigh. "I don't know much about True Love, but I do know that Emma will never connect with someone the way she does with Regina."

* * *

Emma smiles at the soft gasp that fills the air followed by a pleasured moan, and her fingers flex their encouragement against hips. She allows a moan of her own when the heady tang of blood gushes into her mouth, and she feels the body respond in their embrace as fingers tighten their hold on her neck. Regina undulates against her, lifting one leg to wrap about her waist and sending the water rippling around them as she grinds telling heat against her stomach.

It's been less than a week since they were last together, but to Emma it feels like forever as she extracts her fangs and palms the glorious cheeks of that amazing backside. She hoists Regina up, bathing the bite with lips and tongue until the wound closes over and she can focus back on already kiss-swollen lips.

The way Regina kisses her back sends a wave of need through her, another echo—a reminder of the yearning she might have felt to claim what is already hers. Regina has never once uttered the words, but Emma knows she loves her. She feels it in the swipe of the tongue against her lips, the way thighs fit perfectly in the crook of her hips and in the involuntary whimper of her name that tells her Regina wants to let go.

"Not yet," she whispers, leaning back to take in the sight of this gorgeous woman who teeters on the edge. Desire and frustration swirl within the chestnut eyes as their lids flutter open and Emma smiles, seeing how torn Regina is—how much she wants to surrender to her pleasure and ignore those two, small words as her hips still.

Emma strokes her stomach—a reward for not giving in, eyes downcast as she follows the path of her hand. She reaches for those beautiful breasts, the tips of her fingers no more than a whisper over an already stiff nipple before they're curling, capturing their fill of flesh and drawing such sweet sounds from slightly parted lips.

Arching into her palm, Regina begs for more and Emma obliges, bowing her head and sucking the neglected nub into her mouth while continuing her manipulations on its twin. Regina is so soft, so warm despite the slight chill in the air and Emma hums, enjoying the feel of the nails running through her hair—the breathy little sounds and the heat emanating—spreading against her stomach as Regina loses what little control she gained in order to allow her those few extra minutes to savour.

Regina tugs once in need, and then again when Emma refuses the silent request; the second one demanding, harsh as a hiss drifts across the dampness of flesh and Emma raises her head, eyes glinting beneath the moonlight. "I am not a dog," Regina growls, head falling back in pleasure, words breathless but deep. "I refuse to come, rutting against you like one."

Emma chuckles and leans in, running her tongue along the newly exposed throat as her hand drifts from the well-worshiped breast to the apex of thighs. The angle is terrible but the dull ache in her wrist will remind her of this moment, as unlikely as she is to forget in the seconds it will take to pass, and she doesn't care.

There is no teasing, no hesitation as her fingers plunge inside. Regina may be warm on the outside, but inside she is  _hot_ , molten even and Emma would break every bone in her body to hear the curse that spills forth, unashamed and hoarse in its cry. The sound is pure pleasure, love and lust combined and like music to her ears.

Afterwards, they lie in the grass staring up at the stars while they wait for their bodies to dry. Emma listens to the silence, twitching whenever she catches a sound in the distance but her hand never pauses, never stops mapping the back that it rests on with soft caresses and the occasional massage of fingers where she knows Regina sometimes gets tense.

"I wanted to do something for you," Regina says and Emma looks down to where she rests against her chest, cheeks dimpled with her grin.

"Not that I'm complaining, but that seemed more for you than me."

Regina huffs but the irritation she wants to feign with a roll of her eyes won't come and she finds herself smiling instead. Resigned to her apparent weakness for dimples, she rises and crawls further up the blonde's body, dropping a kiss to upturned lips before propping herself up with her elbows on either side of Emma's head.

"You were the one who insisted I bathe with you," she reminds, nipping her chin as the grin turns smug and widens. "But I was referring to the other reason I had for pulling you away from the group. I remembered something I read when I was younger, about a spell—or rather, an enchantment one might cast on a piece of jewelry."

Distracted by a shiver that Regina barely notices, Emma rolls them and kisses her softly before rising. "Tell me while I dress you," she says, hand extended.

Regina raises an eyebrow, pushing away the sudden arousal and thoughts that surface as she accepts the help and stands. She can dress herself in the blink of an eye, and Emma knows this, but if the thought of Emma dressing her turns her on, then she can only imagine what the act itself might reveal as she snaps her fingers and passes Emma the outfit that appears in her hand.

When Emma drapes the clothes over her shoulders and kneels, Regina nibbles her lower lip and tries to ignore the flutter in her stomach, moving when Emma tells her to but forcing her gaze up away from the sight as she speaks. "The text spoke of an enchantment that would allow a nightwalker to venture out into the sun."

Emma rises, buttoning her trousers and placing hands on her hips as she questions, "You know the spell?"

Regina shakes her head, immediately raising a hand to cup the blonde's cheek when she sees the flash of disappointment. "I know where to find it," she quickly explains, thumb stroking the edge of her mouth. "Now that he's dead, the wards Rumplestiltskin placed around his castle should be deactivated. He possessed scrolls, tomes… artifacts, some of them ancient. I'm certain we can find everything we need there for me to replicate the spell for you."

"Are we going to stop there on the way?"

"No," she replies, stealing a kiss when Emma leans in to clasp her bra. "It isn't on the way, but I know where it is and I think I can transport us there without exhausting myself."

Emma blinks as she pulls back, sensing the change in her tone. It's the first time she's ever heard excitement in Regina's voice that didn't involve the tearing of clothes. "What, now?"

Regina nods, eyes alight with mischief as she waves her hand and Emma looks down, surprised to find herself fully clothed. She frowns and raises her head, opening her mouth in a protest swallowed up in the rich cloud of purple smoke that smells oddly of vanilla and black pepper.


	22. Chapter 22

Displacement is unlike anything Emma has experienced before.

At first, she feels as though she's falling and she imagines that if her heart could, it would be beating ten times faster than is safe for the average human.

And then it ends.

No warning, no announcement to brace herself for the ride to be over—nothing. One minute she stands inside the forest, watching the excitement dancing in her lover's eyes. The next she's trying to come to terms with the fact she's travelled what is likely hundreds of miles, and she did it without moving a single muscle in her entire body.

It is exhilarating.

When a hand presses against her cheek, she blinks and a fog seems to lift from her thoughts. She knows those eyes- beautiful, smoky chestnut eyes; watching her, concerned. "Gorgeous," she says and Regina grins, her excitement palpable as their lips find one another.

Emma chuckles against her mouth, intrigued by this new side of her and all too happy to return the kiss. It's when Regina pulls back that she realizes her hand is fisted in the brunette's shirt and she quickly lets her go, wondering if maybe Regina hadn't kissed her at all before the faint tap of fingers reminds her of the hand still cradling her cheek.

"Magic effects us all differently," Regina explains and Emma is relieved to hear the husked tone that suggests the kiss was well received, regardless of who initiated it. "I'm pleased to know our responses run along the same lines," she adds and only then, does Emma notice the arousal simmering just below the surface.

"If you did that every time we were about to have sex, we could break records for the world's shortest quickies," she chuckles, uncomfortable but at the same time… not.

"The buildup is half the fun," Regina smirks, pecking her on the nose before she turns. "Now let us find that spell and return before Snow convinces the group that I've abducted you."

"Technically you did," Emma says, following after her. "But I doubt she would convince Michael or Victor."

"If I have learned anything in the years I've known her," Regina replies, leading them through to a room filled from floor to ceiling with books. "It is that one should never underestimate Snow White, my dear."

Emma chews her lower lip, unsure how to respond. The words had sounded almost proud and if there is one thing stranger than instantaneous travel, it is the thought that Regina might actually feel something besides loathing for the woman she blames for ruining her life. The way she remembers Regina telling her the tale one night while they shared a drink; the only reason she's kept Snow White alive is because she wants her to suffer as long as possible and until now, Emma has never had reason to consider otherwise.

However, she knows now isn't the time for an in depth discussion on the inner workings of the once Evil Queen's mind and shrugs, deciding not to speak at all. She moves to stand beside her and skims the spine of numerous books, glimpsing Regina doing something similar from the corner of her eye but, unlike Regina, she gives up after a few minutes.

Most of the titles appear to be in a language she doesn't understand and she deduces quickly that there is little help she can offer. Perhaps Regina had simply wanted her company, she thinks, and it is a thought that brings a smile to her face as she walks over to the desk in the corner and takes a seat.

The smile remains as her eyes wander, annoyed mutterings drifting back to her from where Regina has her nose buried in one book or another. If nothing else comes from their trip, she is at least glad to see what it might be like to watch Regina in her element. She has little glimpses from her other self of Regina seething, slacks draped over an arm as she shouts for her to get out of her house—of Regina with her head back, eyes closed, sun falling like a halo around her head as she catches a moment of peace in her office back in Storybrooke.

Emma didn't dwell on what she is, what it means, what she misses. She never had reason to. She embraces change and while some might argue becoming undead to be somewhat more than simple change, even that she had embraced in very little time. She doesn't  _like_ it, exactly, but she had accepted it a long time ago—adapted to it.

The more time she spends with Regina, the more she thinks, the more she wishes for what once was. She isn't quite as impulsive as Regina in her excitement, but she is aware of the hope she feels with the thought of one day experiencing the sun on her skin again. She didn't miss it until Storybrooke, until Regina and wandering thoughts of seeing that bright, beautiful smile in the light of day.

It isn't quite yearning, but it's pretty damn close.

Time passes at a leisurely crawl and after a while she stands, bored enough to look for a distraction. Regina has moved by this point and she stands next to a shelf filled, not with books, but trinkets. She jumps, startled as Emma saunters up behind her, arms snaking about her waist as she rests a chin on her shoulder.

"Found anything?"

Regina sighs, placing her hands over the ones on her stomach as she leans into the warmth of the blonde's body. "There is a lot of information to get through," she says. "There is mention of the spell in a few of the books, but nothing concrete."

"Maybe we should come back later," Emma suggests, pressing a kiss to her jaw. "As much as I would love being awake during the day with you, we're wasting time here."

"If you can travel during the day, we'll waste much less time." Regina pulls from her embrace and turns with a frown, eyes searching a blank expression. "I thought this would be something you want."

"I do, it's just…" Emma sighs, dragging a hand through her hair. "I've never really thought about this. I mean, this has been my life for almost nine years; I can wait a little longer, but who's to say Maleficent won't grow impatient? I don't want to be the reason something happens to Henry."

"You don't think I thought of him before I brought you here?" Regina shakes her head, lips twitching with a smile as she cups the blonde's face in the palm of her hands. "Graham will lead the group where we need to be. He knows the forests even better than I, and I told him if we don't return within the hour, that he needed to get everyone moving."

"This will take as long as it takes," she adds, kissing Emma before she releases her and brushes passed. "I'm not leaving here without the spell."

* * *

"Did Regina say where they were going?" Michael asks, falling into step with Graham. A little over two hours have passed since they were informed of Regina and Emma's departure, at least half of which had been spent breaking up an argument started by Snow White, who refused to leave until their return.

In the end, Graham hadn't left any of them a choice, not that it had taken much to convince everyone else. Michael had followed him into the forest the second he started to walk off, Richard and Victor right behind them. Red appeared a few minutes later and Snow, while making more of a fuss than necessary, eventually caught up to them all.

"Her exact words were; I'm leaving and taking the blonde one with me..." Michael snorts and Graham shrugs, continuing, "Then she patted me on the cheek, told me I was in charge, and if we weren't any closer to Maleficent's castle when they returned, she was going to skin my boyfriend and make herself a pretty fur coat."

Surprised by the casual reference to their relationship, of which he wondered would still exist in this new world, Michael allows the silence between them to stretch a few minutes before he questions, "She does know we become human when we die, right?"

"She never said you'd be dead at the time," Graham smirks, their hands brushing, fingers entwining as he adds, "But as we are in fact moving, it appears you're safe from such an experience."

Michael grins. "I suppose I owe you a thank you, then."

"I'm sure we'll be able to come up with a suitable reward for my heroics later."

* * *

"Oops."

Regina raises an eyebrow at the exclamation, not too worried, but her head snaps up at the distinct sound of grating that follows and she stands. Emma stares at her over a shoulder, lips pursed as if waiting to be chided like a small child and Regina chuckles. "What did you do?"

Emma points to a large black book, the image of a serpent running down the length of its spine. "I touched that," she says and then points to something beyond Regina's eye line. "And that happened."

Regina saunters closer, curious, and her eyebrow rises even higher than before at the sight of one bookcase having shifted to reveal a hidden passage. She moves to take a step forward, overcome by a desire to explore the darkness beyond, but a hand lands on her shoulder and she frowns, eyes cutting to the blonde who smiles sheepishly.

"Can I go first? If there's something in there…" Emma leaves the sentence unfinished, but Regina rolls her eyes in understanding and steps back with a gesture.

"Go on then."

She gives Emma a few seconds before following, hands gliding along the cold stone of the narrow walls. It doesn't take long before she realizes that Emma going first had been a good idea, as the uncertainty of not knowing what is ahead combined with the sudden sense of claustrophobia might prove difficult to handle if there is indeed something, or someone, lying in wait.

"There are torches along the walls, maybe two or three inches above our heads," Emma murmurs, sensing her distress. "I can see without them, but if you want to light them…"

Regina does, thinking nothing of appearing vulnerable in front of the blonde and feeling a wave of relief wash over her as she estimated the distance correctly and the flames dance to life. In minutes, the passage tapers out into a wide room and Emma stills in the middle of it, staring down at an ornate box sat in the middle of a table and surrounded by even more artifacts.

"What is that?"

Cocking her head to the side, Regina listens and immediately recognizes the dull, familiar rhythm. "A heart," she answers, dismissing it just as swiftly. "Do you see or perhaps  _feel_ anything strange, other than the box?"

Emma waves to a corner of the room, flipping the latch on the box with her other hand. "There's something over there that makes my skin crawl," she replies, peering into the box. "Who is Cora?"

Eyes landing on a pile of scrolls, Regina freezes and a feeling of dread churns her stomach. "Regina?" Her head whips to the side, eyes wide as she tries to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. "You know who it is?"

She manages a nod, a heavy shudder of breath wracking her frame as she closes her eyes, needing a moment to think. If the heart belongs to her mother, and it still beats, it means Cora still lives. It also means that the assassin failed, and either she buried someone made to look like Cora before she cast the curse, or she was tricked by the lack of a heart and she had buried her own mother alive.

"She wouldn't have survived that," she mutters to herself, shaking her head.

"Regina?"

Her eyes flutter open as she feels the hands at her hips. "My mother," she says, not needing to hear the question she finds in that emerald gaze. "Cora is my mother." She shakes her head, seeing the memories of conversations they've shared stirring behind those eyes, and steps away from the blonde, turning and walking straight to the box where she lifts the heart from within.

"What are you doing?"

"I have to crush it," she says, not looking back but hesitating, waiting to see if Emma will attempt to convince her not to.

She waits, and the silence is almost unbearable.

Waiting, waiting waiting and then…

"Okay," Emma concedes and Regina wonders at the curious lilt to the word, as though it had been a question before relief, much stronger than earlier, slams into her chest.

She breathes a sigh. She would have stopped, she thinks, fingers closing around the organ. Emma could have said not to, and she would have let her mother live despite everything she had done to her—despite all the pain she might have inflicted on them later, had Cora ever found her again.

As the ash falls through her fingers, she feels the warmth of a body at her back and she unclenches her fist as she zeroes in on the scroll held within the hand that appears in front of her. "I think this is what we're looking for," Emma murmurs, their cheeks pressed together.

Regina plucks it from her fingers and she turns, staring down at the strange symbols on the parchment. "I can't read this," she says, lifting her head with a shake.

A small smile appears on pale lips before, "But I can."


	23. Chapter 23

"What the…"

Feeling an intense heat against his backside, Michael reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and frowns as he pulls a circular object from within. Bringing it up to the faint light of the moon shining in through the treetops, he raises an eyebrow at what appears to be a compact mirror and, without thinking, snaps it open.

"Hello fuzz face," Regina drawls, grinning at him from behind the glass. "I have a request either of you or your father—preferably you."

"Was setting my ass alight necessary?"

"How else do you expect me to get your attention?" She waves a hand dismissively when he opens his mouth to comment on how a simple sound might achieve the same thing, and continues, "Tell Graham to stop a moment and then bring your father here, I'd rather not repeat myself."

Looking to Graham, the former Sheriff nods that he heard and calls for a few minutes rest. Michael offers him a smile before he turns in search of his father and he finds Victor leaning against a tree, Red sat his feet. The two appear deep in conversation and he considers interrupting them, but he shakes his head less than a minute later. Regina did say that whatever she and his sister want, he's the preferable choice.

Moving away from the group, he glances back down at the mirror and Regina tilts her head, the question clear. "He's busy," he says with a shrug. "You said I was preferable anyway, so how may I help, Your Majesty?"

"Emma and I took a little trip to the Dark One's castle in the hope of finding a spell," Regina explains, lifting a finger to her lips when he tries to speak again. "We've found it and we have all the ingredients to make it work, except one; the blood of a werewolf."

He eyes the mirror warily, waiting to see if she'll attempt to shush him once more. When she doesn't, he questions, "How much blood?"

"Less than what you lost the night I came to the cabin to find you and your sister half dead. It isn't the quantity that bothers me, but the side effect," she sighs. "The werewolf whose blood is used to bind the enchantment will be weakened."

"What does the enchantment do?"

Regina smiles, eyes looking away for a brief second before they return to him, amusement dancing within. "It will allow Emma to walk in the sunlight."

"Seriously?" Regina inclines her head in the affirmative and he grins as he says, "Of course she can have my damn blood."

Her features soften into something akin to affection and she chews her lower lip. "You understand that I haven't the faintest idea how much strength this will cost you?" she questions softly. "I am unsure if those who created the spell had need of their guardians given the purpose of the enchantment."

"Well we won't know until we try," he reasons. Emma never mentioned a desire to walk in the sun, but if it was something she wanted, then he was more than willing to go along with it. "Can it be broken?"

Regina repeats the question back to Emma and he hears a murmur in response before she nods. "Apparently melting the enchanted object will nullify the magic, though it will take time for you to recover. Under normal circumstances, I'd suggest taking some time to consider it before deciding, but I'm afraid we can't wait. If you're sure you want to try, then I will come and get you now."

"I think it's adorable you're giving me a choice." He laughs as her face contorts in confusion, interrupting her this time as he adds, "She's my sister, Regina; I'll always want to help her."

"Your father was right," she teases. "You  _can_  be sweet."

"Stop it," he chides, thankful its night time as his next words are no doubt painted on his cheeks. "You're making me blush."

Regina laughs softly. "Turn the mirror around, I need to see where I'm going."

He does as requested and hears the knowing sigh in response. "Panoramic view, dear," Regina says. "I don't fancy ending up inside of a tree."

Turning slowly in place, he's barely completed a full circle when he catches the mist that sprouts up beside him from the corner of his eye and takes a step back. Regina materializes in front of him and spins on her heel, giving him a once over before she sniffs. "I suppose we should tell the others before I dognap you."

"Has anyone ever told you that you are hilarious?" Before she can respond, he raises his voice. "Graham, Regina has come for my body, don't wait up."

Regina rolls her eyes and snatches the mirror out of his hand. He watches as she stalks off toward the group, only to reappear mere minutes later sans mirror. "Let's go, flea bus."

"Goodbye, cruel world," he utters dramatically and stumbles at the force of her hand on his shoulder.

* * *

Scenting the aroma she is quickly growing to love that signals Regina's return, Emma glances up from the book in her hand and her lips quirk with a grin as she notes Michael swaying on the balls of his feet. "Whoa, I feel…"

"Please don't say aroused," she mutters, cringing at the thought. It's one thing to share the feeling with Regina, but to share it with her brother as well? She shudders.

"Stoned," he finishes with a grimace. "I also did not need to know that."

"Well I didn't need to know Graham likes to cuddle after sex," Emma retorts. "Yet here we are, forever scarred knowing what we know."

Regina frowns, glancing between them before she questions, "Why would you know that?"

"He likes to traumatize me," Emma supplies with a shrug, standing from the chair and moving to the table where she'd prepared everything while Regina was gone.

"As any good brother should," he adds.

Shaking her head at them both, Regina joins Emma at the table. She's starting to believe being an only child might just be a good thing. "Right well—moving on," she says, brushing her hair to one side as she turns her back to Emma with her request. "Be a dear and unclasp me."

Fingers ghost over her skin and she raises a hand to her chest, catching the golden chain as it slackens around her neck. She holds it there a moment, feeling her heart clench before she takes a deep breath and removes the necklace from inside her shirt. It is fitting, she supposes, that the ring given to her by her first love should be passed on to her eternal. She knows Daniel would forgive her, and she smiles at the thought that follows; that he would most likely encourage her to do it.

Sighing softly, she removes the ring and places it on the table before retrieving the knife laid beside the bowl filled with crushed emeralds. She beckons Michael with the crook of a finger and accepts his hand as he offers it without comment, offering up a silent prayer to whoever is listening before she draws the blade across his palm.

Guiding his hand over the bowl, she wraps her fingers around his and makes a fist, watching with mild interest as crystal and crimson mingle together, blood congealing in places where nothing but dust remains of the gems. She squeezes harder, ignoring his grunt of discomfort as she drops the ring into the bowl and begins to recite the incantation beneath her breath.

There is no slow build up of magic as it flows through her, no rush of anticipation like she has felt every other time since regaining her powers. She isn't sure what to expect, but she feels nothing and her brow furrows as she closes her eyes, repeating the words as Emma had said.

It is on the third repetition when she finally feels something—a spark that begins in the pit of her stomach. Steadily, it grows with every husked twist of her tongue, the strange words falling from her lips becoming easier with each utterance before the spark explodes inside of her and she staggers, overwhelmed but grateful for the hands that settle on her hips with lightning speed.

And as if nothing had occurred, her magic recedes, leaving her breathless and drenched with sweat as her eyes flutter open. She inhales deeply, the breath shuddered as it is released and she turns to Michael, not knowing what to expect but hoping as she lets go of his hand.

He senses her stare and tears his own from the bowl, the question spilling from his mouth before she can speak. "Did it work?"

"I think so," she says, words contrary to the shake of her head. "I was hoping you might feel something that would tell us, but I suppose we won't know until she tries it."

She plucks the ring from the bowl and lets it sit on her thumb, inspecting what was once a simple gold band; now flecked with emeralds and red vein-like lines weaved throughout, dirtying the metal to an almost bronze. "This belonged to Daniel," she states, turning to face the blonde.

"Daniel as in…" Emma trails off as Regina nods, slipping the ring from her thumb and reaching for one of the hands at her hip.

"You mean the world to me, Emma." Working the band on to a slim middle finger, Regina smiles and presses a brief kiss to pale lips. "It's time I let go of my past and embrace my future."

"Not to ruin the moment," Michael pipes up, voice laced with something heavy. "But I don't feel… good," he finishes with a slur, and then he faints.

* * *

A decidedly feminine gasp sounds as the three of them appear in the cave Graham had found and Emma rolls her eyes as they cut to Snow White. Victor steps forward and she passes Michael off to him, explaining what had happened as she watches him carefully lay her brother down on a roll next to the fire. Despite their efforts to rouse him, Michael had remained unconscious and even removing the ring hadn't woken him.

According to Regina, he merely appeared to be sleeping and after an hour or so of pointless attempts, they decided the only thing they could do was wait it out in the hope he would come around on his own. Having reassured Regina that she didn't blame her when the brunette began apologising profusely, she didn't want to think of what might happen should he not wake at all and had convinced her to return them to the group.

"If I didn't know better, I would assume he had just experienced his first shift," Victor says as he stands and turns to Emma. "Did you bring the scroll with you?"

Emma nods and takes the scroll from inside her jacket, watching as he takes it from her and then wanders to the other side of the cave before she looks to Regina. She sighs, knowing from the expression the brunette wears that Regina is still blaming herself as she slides an arm around her waist and leads her away from the group and out into the forest.

"You didn't know," she murmurs, coaxing Regina to turn and face her with a gentle tug. "You tried to warn him what would happen as best you could, and he chose to do it, you didn't force him."

"He loves you," Regina replies, avoiding her gaze as she seeks comfort in her embrace instead. "He would do anything for you, he said as much himself."

Emma smiles, resting a cheek against the side of her head. "I adored him when I was little," she says with a breathy little laugh. "He ignored me mostly. I figured he probably thought I wouldn't be around for long and didn't see the point in getting to know me."

"I assume you were wrong," Regina interjects, the words muffled against her neck.

"Yeah," she sighs. "I was with them for a little over two years and during the first year, Victor decided to throw me a birthday party. He invited everyone from school and about an hour into it, I got upset when I overheard one of the kids referring to me as  _that weird kid_."

She smirks, recalling the exact moment as she speaks. "The next thing I know, I'm watching Michael as he drags the boy outside by the scruff of his neck and starts yelling at him in our front yard," she chuckles. "When he finishes, the kid takes off running, tears streaming down his face and Michael walks over to me, smug as all hell, pats me on the head and mutters something about no one talking about his sister like that before he goes back inside."

Pulling from the embrace, she takes Regina by the hands and walks back towards the tree a few steps behind her. She turns the brunette round and wraps her arms around her from behind, Regina's back pressed to her front as she leans against the trunk. "I asked him about it a few days later, and that's when I learned that he only ever pretended not to notice me because I never spoke to him. He said I didn't seem the type to appreciate small talk and then he showed me all these pictures he had drawn of me. Apparently I sometimes got so lost in my own head, that I never noticed him watching me."

"We share a…" She pauses, considering the words a moment. "A bond, I suppose. Somehow, he always knew when something was wrong—even after I was shipped off to another home—and barely a year would pass before he'd pop up out of no where to make sure I was alright. He was the one who found me after Neal."

"As heart warming as it is to know you had someone who was there for you," Regina comments after a while. "Is there a reason you're telling me all this?"

"The reason is that I know he loves me, and I know he would do all that he can to help me—to protect me, which is why you shouldn't blame yourself for whatever is happening with him now. There is no blame, it's just me being incredibly lucky to have found a woman who cares enough about me to want to do something like break into a castle and steal a magic scroll, and a brother who loves me enough to go along with it all."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if this is any good, but I hope it at least answers some of the questions I've received since my last update.

Emma wakes with a start, pulled from the darkness by hands enveloping her face. Her eyes snap open with a hiss, hand raised and ready to snap her assailant's neck before she realizes it is only Regina. She stills, letting her palm fall against the chest of her lover as she slumps in relief. Regina stares at her with a look of wonder, a smile like no other shining brighter than the sun beating down on them as she strokes her thumbs across cheeks, almost reverent in their touch.

The first thought Emma has is of how the light accentuates her beauty, drawing attention to the scar above her lip and the warmth of chestnut eyes. Of silken hair that looks as soft as it feels, as it falls around features she can vividly recall admiring for hours on end; in the dull flicker of the fireplace as the two lay tangled on her living room floor, or beneath the fluorescent light from the lamp on her bedside table.

Regina is beautiful at night, but nothing will ever compare to this first glance of her in the morning sun and just as she could the previous night, Emma can feel the excitement radiating from Regina in waves. She reaches up and draws her in with a hand at the back of her neck, connecting their lips in the sweetest of kisses as Regina hums against her mouth.

"It worked," Regina murmurs, her smile luminous as Emma commits the moment to memory before she gives in to the sting of her eyes and closes them.

"It did," she agrees with a smile of her own and Regina straddles her lap, fingers sinking into her hair as she presses their foreheads together.

"No more sneaking out in the early hours of the morning," she says and Emma's smile widens, a soft puff of laughter falling from her lips.

"I think we were passed that before this," she replies with a blind wave of the hand about their surroundings. "Last I heard you own a castle—I don't think I'd have needed to sneak out."

"Not the point," Regina growls, nipping at her lip. "I can have you now, whenever and wherever I like."

Emma ignores the thought running through her head—still remembering the last time she risked her life because she refused to leave when she knew she should have—and kisses her again, wrapping her in a tight embrace as Regina demands entrance into her mouth and deepens the kiss.

A throat clears somewhere to their right, a sound they're content to ignore until the intruder speaks. "Maybe I should have let Snow come out here instead," he says and their heads snap to the side, both scurrying to stand at the sight of Michael leaning against a tree a few feet away. "The sun suits you, little sister."

Emma grins, clasping Regina by the hand and tugging her forward as she moves toward him. "It burns like hell," she says, bringing her free hand up over her eyes. She knows she needs time to adjust, but until then, she wishes she had a pair of sunglasses or something.

When she comes to a stop, Regina steps in front of her and takes her hand away from her eyes, replacing it with her own. "You could have said something," she chides and Emma inhales sharply, words of reason vanishing as she feels that familiar warmth of magic singing through her veins.

"Damn," she breathes, blinking rapidly as the hand falls from her face. Everything appears muted, the colours around them no longer glaring—softer, somehow. She reaches up, the tips of her fingers tingling as she touches the skin beneath her eyes. "What'd you do?"

"Blinded you," Regina replies, smirking at the look of confusion that paints her face. "Technically," she adds with a shrug. "It will wear off gradually and by this time tomorrow, you shouldn't need it anymore. Did I overdo it?"

"No," Emma smiles, shaking her head before she leans in and drops a kiss to plump lips. "Thank you," she murmurs, sliding an arm around her waist as they both turn to Michael. "So, sleeping beauty, feeling any different?"

Michael frowns, pouting as he questions, "Why not Rip Van Winkle?"

"Sorry," Emma retorts, sounding wholly unapologetic. "Unless you find some moonshine drinking ghosts, you're stuck being sleeping beauty. I don't make the rules."

He scoffs, waving a hand dismissively as Regina chuckles and leans her head on Emma's shoulder. "I'm fine," he sighs. "Dad guessed you had to use the ring before I woke, said something about the first use concluding the ritual. It sapped some of my strength, but I can already feel some of it returning."

"Good," Emma replies, the two women falling in to step as Michael turns back toward the cave they'd camped in during the night. "What's everyone doing?"

"Mostly trying to calm Snow down," Michael answers with a smirk. "She woke up this morning and freaked when she realized you and Regina hadn't returned. Dad told her if the ring hadn't worked, you'd have come tearing into the cave and woken them all up vomiting up your insides—she didn't respond too well."

"She's always been a bit on the squeamish side," Regina purrs as she feels a hand slip beneath her shirt and curl around her hip. "When we first went to war against each other, I think I prolonged it for the simple fact her face whenever I killed someone in front of her amused me—I suppose it was a good enough reason in a long list of many for why I came to be known as the Evil Queen."

Emma snorts, ready to provide an extensive list of reasons for why such a thing is absurd, but Michael beats her to it. "If killing for sport is all it takes to be considered evil, then this world is in for one hell of a wake up call," he says and Emma stiffens.

Regina stops, which forces Emma to stop as well and Michael turns when he realizes they're no longer beside him, eyebrow raised in question. Regina licks her lips, eyes darting between them as she asks, "What do you mean by that?"

"He means," Emma interjects, fixing her brother with a glare. "That you're bound to an immortal who is capable of almost anything when angered."

Michael nods, confirming her words to Regina whose gaze cuts to him in askance. "Your past deeds would resemble the actions of a temperamental kitten compared to an enraged nightwalker."

Regina swallows as nails bite sharply into her hip, sucking her lower lip between teeth as Emma growls from beside her. Whatever he's trying to accomplish, she thinks he may regret it if she allows him to continue. Regina gestures for him to leave, needing a moment alone with the blonde and Michael inclines his head, taking a step back before he turns on his heel and walks away.

She pries the hand out from under her shirt and feels her heart rate pick up as Emma faces her. She doesn't understand this sudden anger. She knows what Emma is, knows her monster almost as intimately as Emma herself, and yet she feels as though she's missing something crucial. She reaches up to caress her jaw and brings their bodies together, chest to chest as she offers the blonde a soft smile.

"Tell me," she whispers, their mouths little more than a breadth apart. "Why are you angry?"

Emma stares into her eyes, jaw rippling against her fingertips. "He didn't know we're bound," she explains after a moment of searching, shoulders sagging. "He only found out the day we came to rescue you from Rumple. You've fallen for me…"

Emma falls silent, hesitant to continue and Regina cups her cheek as their lips brush, melding together in a gentle kiss. "I have," she assures the blonde and Emma sighs, nodding.

"It seems he's decided now is the time to warn you," she resumes the explanation. "To remind me that there are things I haven't told you about what it means to be bound to me."

Regina frowns and pulls back, dread filling her gut as she eyes her warily. "Tell me," she repeats, mind screaming at her to take it back. She doesn't _want_ to know, not when Emma sounds as though it's something that might hurt—something that might ruin what she's found after all these years of searching, of longing and failed revenge.

"Because of what we are," Emma begins, their stare holding. "We can't share True Love but there is an equivalent for nightwalkers. You and I, we're what they call Soulbound—we are connected in every sense of the word."

Regina nods. She's familiar with the term and though it isn't something she necessarily believes in given her own experiences, she assumes it means something more for Emma's kind. "Is this is a bad thing?"

"It can be," Emma admits, finally breaking their stare as she looks away. "When a nightwalker finds their mate, it's usually someone of their own kind and the price of their connection is more easily paid."

Regina grabs her chin and forces Emma to look at her. She fears the answer to the question running through her mind, but she needs to know. If she's wrong, then she has nothing to worry about but if she's right then— "What price?"

"True death," Emma replies. "The fact I was still alive is how I knew Rumple hadn't killed you."

* * *

 

Emma pretends not to sense the eyes on her as they walk, knowing she won't be able to resist meeting them if she gives in. Regina has been studying her ever since they left the clearing. Snow had hugged her at one point, saying how glad she was to see them, even including Regina in her declaration. Emma had allowed it, her thoughts elsewhere as her body went through the motions of helping to pack up camp.

It feels strange to be out in the light after almost nine years without, but even that isn't enough to stop her mind from wandering to the look of hurt she'd seen in those eyes. Regina needs her space, despite the desire Emma caught briefly in her gaze that spoke of wanting the exact opposite.

This was why Emma hadn't told her. She didn't want this distance between them, but the second she discovered what she'd done, it was nothing less than she expected.

Part of her wants to hate Michael for doing this to her, but in his own way, he was simply looking out for them both and she knows she can't—won't even bother to try because what's the point? If she confronts him, he'll challenge her and it'll end in the both of them bloodied and battered for a few hours at most; her needing to work out the anger she feels and he resigned to his role as her brotherly punching bag.

Regina had sacrificed a day of being one step closer to her son, and the least she can do to repay that favour is not waste even more time throwing a supernatural tantrum for things not going the way she wants them to. Shoulders straightening, she looks to Snow who walks beside her, having ignored the woman up until this point.

"Any idea how much farther we have to travel?"

She almost laughs at the expression of surprise that greets her, but purses her lips. Regina isn't speaking to her, and though she won't kick his ass, she is still pissed with Michael so really, her options are limited to those she's ultimately indifferent toward and Snow is the closest.

"If we're where I think we are, then we should be there by tomorrow afternoon." Emma nods, satisfied with the response and there's a pause before Snow questions, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she replies automatically, tone reverting to its habitual coolness.

The last thing she intends to do is talk about Regina, least of all admit her fears to a virtual stranger whose only redeeming quality is that she's less bothersome than her husband. The fact Snow is trying hasn't gone unnoticed, but it changes nothing between the two of them. She will never understand her connection to Regina, and Emma quite frankly isn't in the mood to explain it to someone she considers unworthy to begin with.

"You haven't looked at her once since the two of you came back to the cave," Snow observes and, though she would love nothing more than to tell her to mind her own business, Emma can't help that the comment amuses her and she smirks.

"If I did that, she'd stop."

Snow hums and Emma sighs, relieved that it seems they were done as silence settles on them once more. She lets her eyes roam the forest surrounding them, enthralled by the vibrant colour steadily seeping back into her vision. At first, it was almost like watching a black and white movie and now, after only a few hours, she can pick out all the different shades of browns and greens—dirt and leaves, and bushes and trees. She'd forgotten what it was like to be human—to be able to truly _see_ again. As a nightwalker, she can see for miles in the dark more clearly than even a cat but under natural light, everything looks so different; so full of life.

"Michael told me about your connection with Regina."

Emma stalls in her stride, coming to an abrupt stop. She ignores the hand that slams into her back, sensing that it belongs to Regina and not so much as budging beneath the impact. She blinks and clears her throat as anger begins to boil in her blood. She's going to kill him.

"I guess you have something in common then."

Snow smiles, oblivious to the change in the air. "We do?"

"Yeah," Emma growls, finding her brother with her eyes as she says, "Neither of you can keep your damn mouths shut."

Michael's eyes widen a split-second before she's on him and Emma is deaf to the shouts of her name. An arm encircles her waist in an attempt to break them apart and her throat rumbles in warning, one hand pinning Michael to the ground as she reaches for the one at her hip and the snap of fingers fill the air.

Somewhere, she registers her father's grunt of pain but all she can focus on is the pulse beneath her thumb and as she rears back to sink her teeth into Michael, she finds herself suddenly launched through the air. She grunts when her back crashes into the trunk of a tree, snarling as vines snake about her wrists, torso and thighs.

Incensed, she struggles and her gaze lands upon Regina whose eyes smolder with a telling lilac glow. "My Queen," she purrs darkly, fingers curling around the vines as she strains against them and arches away from the tree. "Let me down."

Regina shakes her head, voice pleading for forgiveness as her expression contorts with regret. "I can't do that," she says and with the flick of her wrist, Emma slumps, eyelids sagging as her chin drops to her chest.

* * *

 

They sit quietly next to a still sleeping Emma, Victor and Regina on either side of her, waiting for the spell to wear off. He had carried her despite the bones in his hands being broken, stopping whenever a finger healed, the ache eased by the magic Regina offered without thought to her own well-being.

The promise of sleep calls to her, taunting her with the weariness of the day as it settles within her muscles but she resists. She can't sleep, not until she can bury herself in the safe embrace of the woman she loves. Victor assures her she did the right thing, stopping Emma as she had and she knows somewhere in her heart that he's right, but she wonders if Emma will feel the same.

There was a night, not too long ago, when she'd promised she would never use magic on her just as Emma promised to never control her as she so easily could. Only now she's broken her promise, and she doesn't even know why. She heard those last words Emma spoke to Snow before all hell broke loose, but she refuses to speak to her. She doesn't trust the self-righteous Princess to tell her the truth without playing the victim as she so often had in the past.

She needs Emma to wake up, to make it better. She needs to know why she attacked her brother after what he did for her, risking his life so she could have the gift of daylight. She wants to know more about their bond, how she can protect Emma from the consequences of it. If she dies, if Maleficent has a plan to take her life and somehow succeeds, she doesn't want to go knowing Emma will follow because of some stupid soul bond she doesn't fully understand.

Chin resting on the arms wrapped around her knees, she watches Michael from across the campfire. Regina sees everything and nothing at all, lost in thoughts she sometimes emerges from to catch the guilt-stricken gaze that crosses his face as his eyes fall to his sister. She has a strange desire to comfort him but isn't certain he deserves it, not knowing what happened and unwilling to betray Emma a second time.

A flicker from the corner of her eye catches her attention and she turns her head, a tired smile curling her lips. "Hi," she murmurs from the crook of her elbow.

Affectionate emerald eyes twinkle in response and her heart aches because no matter how well the monster might mimic true emotion, she knows it isn't real. "You should sleep," the projection speaks with a nod to Emma's unconscious form. "She won't mind."

Her whole body heaves with a sigh and she shakes her head. "We need to talk."

"So talk."

She refuses. She wants her Emma, the one she can touch, the one who doesn't read her mind even though she probably could—who offers real, pure comfort and not words riddled in confusion with a voice that feels nothing. "You're not her, you never were," she says. "I know too much and not enough because of you."

"Suit yourself," not-Emma shrugs. "But you should still sleep," she adds. "Stop waiting for her and take what you want, you'll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow."

Regina lifts her head to glance at Emma and the more she stares, the stronger her desire is to lie with her. She turns back, mouth open to express her doubts but when she looks, the projection is gone and her protests seem hollow in the face of how exhausted she is. She sighs and unfurls her body, eyes flicking to Victor who smiles knowingly as she presses into Emma's side and drapes an arm across her waist.

Whatever the reaction, she supposes a few minutes—an hour at most—of restful sleep is better than nothing at all and closes her eyes, too jaded to dare hope Emma will respond favorably to her when she wakes.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably not the best chapter, but it needed to be done. Assuming my muse doesn't have other ideas, there should be some action in the next chapter.

The warmth and scent of Emma surrounds Regina as her eyes flutter open and she sighs deeply, her gaze falling on the campfire where everyone is still asleep with their backs to the slowly dying flames. She lies on her side between jean-clad legs, one arm wrapped around a thigh while the other curls against her stomach. Sometime during the night she'd been moved away from the group and she knows Emma is awake, not by their position in which her head resides in the blonde's lap and Emma is clearly sitting up, but by the hand resting on the side of her neck as a thumb rubs soothingly in the dip behind her ear.

There is a weakness in her limbs that warns movement will be difficult—sluggish if she tries to do more than shift and so she stays where she is, listening to the sounds of the forest and the occasional murmur of one of their companions as they shuffle around in an attempt to get comfortable. She wonders how long she'd slept, knowing it to be more than the single hour she'd allowed herself.

Her thoughts move to their conversation the previous morning, and she wonders if Emma might turn her. The idea both thrills and terrifies her, but it's the only way she has yet to think of that might solve the problem she has regarding their bond. The thought of Emma dying _for_ her has never really been a concern, at least not until she watched her get shot. The thought of Emma dying _because_ of her, however, causes her heart to throb with an almost unbearable pain.

She thinks Emma will refuse, and she can't decide if it's relief or disappointment she feels when she considers the thought. Maybe it's a little of both. Emma hates what she is and Regina always thought it strange, given the life she had before immortality, untold power and the fancy parties Emma sometimes bemoans late at night when it's just the two of them sharing stories of who they once were.

When she thinks back on her life before Storybrooke, before Henry and Emma and this aching love she has for both of them, she can feel everything she felt back then. The pain and anger of those years are vivid and something she has learned to live with. Losing those feelings seems a small price to pay for immortality, but then what of her love? Will her love for her son dim? Would waking up as she had only moments ago still comfort her, or would she feel nothing for no one ever again?

Emma says there is an echo, something inside of her that imitates emotion—reminds her of what it's like to feel but she's never once described the feeling outside of their relationship. Does she still yearn to know her parents? Is there still guilt buried somewhere inside of her that she had to give up her son? Does she remember the pain of living on the streets, the pangs of starvation in her stomach and the biting chill of a winter's night when her only shelter was a cardboard box down a dark, dank alley?

Regina can still remember what it's like to be a disappointment, to feel like she's never enough. She still feels the pain of her mother's words, telling her she's useless and weak—the gut-wrenching fear of being torn from the saddle of her horse when her mother caught her trying to run away and the emptiness of loss, of losing the man she loved enough to defy the woman responsible for endless nights of restless sleep and terrible nightmares.

But without those, without the feelings that came from the horrors of her past, what meaning would happiness have? She could be with the woman she loves for all eternity, but would that be enough?

Is life as an immortal, bound forever to a single soul worth sacrificing one's humanity?

"No."

The low, husked growl of the word tears through her thoughts and Regina gasps, wrenching away from the hand still on her neck as she sits up suddenly. Her head jerks from side to side, trying to find that damned double but as the hand comes to rest upon her shoulder, her eyes widen and she twists her body to face the blonde.

Emma smiles faintly. "It occurs to me now that you might not have meant to ask the question out loud." Regina slowly shakes her head and Emma shrugs as her smile grows with a half-hearted offer of, "Sorry."

"It's… fine," she dismisses, relieved that she doesn't sound as spooked as she feels. Why she would think Emma would read her thoughts when she's never done so before, is beyond her. "It seems your doppelganger has given me a case of paranoia."

The hand on her shoulder squeezes gently before Emma tugs, signaling that she should turn around and lean back. Regina does, humming in contentment as those wonderful, safe arms welcome her into their embrace. "What did she want this time?"

"Nothing," Regina sighs, head rolling against a shoulder as she closes her eyes and nuzzles into the crook of Emma's neck. "I told her we needed to talk but she isn't you."

"Do we?"

Regina frowns as she draws back, needing to see if Emma is teasing her for some godforsaken reason. "I used magic on you," she reminds her, looking into curious emerald as Emma waits patiently for an explanation. "I made you a promise that if it ever returned, I would never use it on you."

Emma shakes her head and leans in, lightly bumping their heads together. "And you broke it to save my brother," she counters. "I shouldn't have attacked him."

"Then why did you?"

"I wasn't ready to tell you," Emma admits, pressing a finger to her lips as Regina tries to speak up. "I thought we would have plenty of time to talk once we'd rescued Henry, but then he goes and opens his mouth. I know he was looking out for you—for us, and I was willing to forgive him for it but then Snow said he'd told her about our connection and it… it pissed me off."

Emma feels her anger returning with the reminder and huffs, pushing it away. "He knows because he's my brother, because eventually he would have found out regardless but she— _she_ is nothing. It was none of her business and he had no right."

Regina doesn't immediately respond and Emma wonders what it is she's done now as the frown reappears. She had been impulsive and let her anger get the better of her, it wasn't the first time and she doubts it'll be the last but she at least thought she had _reason_. She trusted Michael. He knew she hadn't said anything to Regina, yet he told the last person she wants knowing anything about her.

"Okay."

Emma raises an eyebrow, unsure if she heard correctly. What the hell did _okay_ mean? And what was that tone? "Okay," she repeats.

"You're right," Regina adds, smiling as Emma's eyes narrow in suspicion. "It is none of her business and while you may have overreacted, I can't say that I blame you. He knows what you think of her, and he betrayed your trust. But… I can't help wonder why the same doesn't apply to me."

Understanding takes a moment to kick in and when it does, Emma rolls her eyes. "You didn't betray me," she groans, knowing they are right back to talking about her use of magic. "You did what needed to be done and stopped me from making a horrible mistake, you were the only one who could."

"Why?"

She snorts then. Because she's apparently whipped, is why. "It can't have slipped your notice that I've never been particularly angry with you."

"Maybe a little passive-aggressive every now and then," Regina mutters, failing to hide her slowly growing smirk.

"Exactly," Emma chuckles softly. "I don't know what it is, but I can't seem to stay angry around you. Maybe it's the connection, or maybe I'm just weak when it comes to you."

Regina hums thoughtfully, once more leaning back as Emma's arms wind their way about her body. She decides to be touched by the confession, as it was likely intended because, as amusing as Emma is when flustered, she'd much rather have another of her questions answered. "Would you turn me if I asked?"

Not expecting an immediate response, she's surprised when Emma instantly responds in the affirmative. She figured Emma would at least think about it first and— "Assuming you've thought it through longer than a day," Emma adds, interrupting the thought.

Regina rolls her eyes at herself. Of course, Emma would have had ample time to think about these things long before today. She may never ask but, she decides, it's nice to know Emma is open to the option if she so chooses.  "And how long should I consider it before you think asking is acceptable?"

"Well," Emma drawls, propping her chin on a shoulder. "It would be nice to not be bound to a senior citizen forever…"

Regina shivers, relishing the closeness as she laughs and raises a hand, running fingers through Emma's hair. "You're an idiot," she murmurs fondly and kisses her chin. "My idiot."

* * *

 

Hours later, the seven members of their group settle at the edge of the forest. Emma eyes the mountain ahead of them and easily finds the path Regina claimed would lead them to their destination. Her loss of temper had set them back a couple of hours and night is almost upon them, lending to the ominous feeling that'd overcome the group during the late afternoon.

"So," she starts, only to be interrupted by a question from Snow.

"What's the plan?"

Emma narrows her eyes and lifts a hand. "Sneak into the castle, confront the dragon, kill the dragon, and rescue Henry," she lists, ticking each of the steps off with her fingers while Regina chuckles beside her.

"You bypassed a few steps." Regina turns to her, eyebrow cocked in amusement. "Such as; how we get into the castle, how we know where to look for Henry and how, exactly, you plan to kill a dragon. As far as plans go, this one is as terrible as your last."

"We've been over this," Emma argues with a smirk. "My last plan succeeded, clearly terrible is the way to go."

Rolling her eyes, Regina ignores her and looks to the rest of the group. "I've visited Maleficent a time or two, there is a hidden entrance to the jail at the foot of the mountain, inside the bone pit. My best guess for where we will find her, and Henry, is in the throne room. As long as there are no surprises along the way, we shouldn't have much trouble reaching them but that _does_ mean we need to search three floors."

"Or," Emma interjects. " _We_ can go straight to the throne room and _they_ can use the secret entrance. We both know she's already expecting us—you, at least—and I only agreed to these lot coming because we _might_ need them. None of us can be sure Henry will be with her and if he isn't, then they're better off looking for him while we confront the dragon."

"Do any of us get a say in this?"

Rising from her crouch, Emma shakes her head. "You came to help us rescue Henry," she says, looking over the group before her eyes settle on Red. "You can help by searching the castle and staying out of my way, little wolf."

A low, rumbled growl is all the response she gets as Red shrinks back and Regina stands, grasping her hand and entwining their fingers. She'd felt the thrill, the lick of power that coated the blonde's words, unable to fight the draw of it. Emma flashes a knowing smile and squeezes her hand before returning her attention to the others.

"Any more questions?"

Snow clears her throat and stands with the rest of them, hands dusting nonexistent dirt from her trousers. "What do we do if we find Henry before we reach the throne room?"

"Leave," Emma replies, dismissing the protests written clear across their faces as she reminds them, " _He_ is the reason we are here, nothing else is important."

"And what if Maleficent is too powerful for the two of you," Snow argues, close to fuming. "What will Henry do when he finds out his mothers died trying to save him?"

Emma scoffs. She doesn't need them. She doesn't need _any_ of them. She had agreed to take these people, to concede to Regina's wishes because she wanted Regina to have hope and these people, as irritating as she finds them, are capable of providing that. All she has is words, and while that is sometimes enough, she had known in this instant that it wasn't. Regina may appear as stoic as Emma at times, but Emma knows deep down Regina is terrified of Maleficent and it is that, that allows Emma to tolerate the lack of belief Regina has in her. If they die, if they can't save Henry for whatever reason without risking their own lives, then Regina needs to know he'll be safe after the fact.

 "As unlikely as that scenario is," she replies, sighing as she steps from the trees. "Then I guess it'll mean you have a chance to be the mother I'll never need."


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning; I suck.

"You were a little harsh back there," Regina comments, the need to fill the silence overwhelming. She'd led their little band of misfits to the bone pit before she and Emma broke from the group and returned to the mountain path.

They've been alone for almost ten minutes and Emma hasn't uttered a word. She knows why. She understands why, but she also knows that they have at least another half an hour before they reach the top and there is a reason for the feeling of dread that has settled in their stomachs. Maleficent has always had a flair for dramatics and it is her magic that surrounds them now, invading their thoughts and filling their minds with doubts. Her old friend has a twisted sense of humour and by the set of her shoulders, it would seem that even a nightwalker is susceptible to the darkness eating away at them.

"No more than she deserves," Emma replies and Regina pauses, struck by the timber of her voice. It takes Emma a moment to realize she's no longer beside her before she stops and turns. "What?"

"You sound…" Trailing off, Regina shakes her head. "Aroused," she chuckles. It's absurd, but the only time she has ever heard the husk of that voice is after a few rounds, and there have been many of which to make the comparison.

When Emma doesn't reply, Regina takes a step forward, unable to see her face now that night has fallen. "Here I am trying to ignore the voices in my head telling me to turn around," she purrs, "And here you are, sounding as if you'd like nothing more than to push me up against something and—"

Emma clears her throat. "They're not telling me to turn around," she interrupts, catching the hand Regina raises as she adds, "And as appealing as that thought is, we don't have time for that."

The fog attempting to cloud her thoughts clears and Regina blinks. "What?" She tries to take back her hand but Emma won't let her go and she gasps, suddenly airborne. Her stomach sinks and her heart seems to stop as she closes her eyes tight, burying her face in the crook of Emma's neck. She asked her not to do this. Emma promised she wouldn't and—oh, she's going to be sick.

The thought barely has a chance to surface before they've stopped again. She gingerly raises her head and shoots Emma a glare as her feet find solid ground once more, knees weakening under her weight before hands quickly catch her by the hips. "You promised," she groans, touching her stomach as it threatens to rebel.

"No," Emma denies, sounding amused. "You pleaded with me not to do it again, I smiled; I made no promises—good thing too, considering you were seconds away from tearing my clothes off."

Regina scowls but it's in vain as Emma kisses her and she softens, almost smiling when it ends. "I will apologize thoroughly later," Emma promises with a squeeze of her hips. "But first, we should probably save your son."

"Our son," Regina says, the correction borne more from a subconscious habit than any annoyance she stills feels at Emma's stubborn refusal to claim him as her own.

Emma simply wrinkles her nose and opts to forgo an argument as she takes Regina by the hand and begins walking toward the castle's entrance. There are a lot of things they don't have time for, whether it involves worshipping the wondrous body of the once evil queen, or loudly discussing the semantics of a closed adoption and the fact she can never be what Henry, and now Regina apparently, want her to be.

As they pass through the large black gate into the courtyard, any chance they might have had to surprise Maleficent is lost. The hinges announce their presence with a piercing screech and both of them flinch at the sound, their throats constricting as the metallic taste of silver fills their mouths.

"So," Emma says, rubbing against the ache that settles in her jaw. "I'm suddenly glad we didn't bring the werewolves with us. Thanks for that."

Regina smirks. "Your aversion to planning has some merits," she says, opening the doors into the palace with a wave of her hand and leading them through.

"I plan." Emma rolls her eyes and adds, "Ask Michael sometime about the coven I was sent to wipe out."

Surprised, Regina slows to keep her pace, shoulder to shoulder as they walk through the halls. "You wiped out an entire coven?"

"Well…" Emma chuckles at the hint of awe in her voice before she shrugs and admits, "I had help."

Smiling at her attempt to appear humble, Regina questions, "How many were in this coven?"

Emma tilts her head, looking thoughtful before she says, "It was small compared to most; maybe twenty, twenty five? My Sire had trust issues."

Regina grins and shakes her head. Humble indeed. "And how much help did you have?"

"Four werewolves?"

"That must have been quite a plan," she chuckles, ignoring the sliver of pleasure she feels as they come to stand before the doors to the throne room.

"Helps to know where all the secret passages are," Emma replies with another shrug. She shoves open the doors and as they enter, her eyes land first on the woman seated on the throne, then to Henry, before they settle on the body beside him. "Who's the corpse?"

"Finally," Maleficent drawls as she rises. "I was beginning to think you'd never show."

Ignoring the comment, Emma turns to Regina with a frown, noting her continued silence. "Regina?"

Lids fluttering at the sound of her name, Regina breathes in deeply through her nose before she opens her eyes and returns the frown with one of her own. "My mother."

"Oh."

"She was very disappointed in you, Regina." Maleficent grins as their gazes snap to her. "I was so looking forward to seeing her do to your pet all that she promised, and then you had to go and find her heart."

Nostrils flaring, Regina surges forward but she barely gets more than two steps before Maleficent snaps out her arm, a wand appearing in her hand that she points at Henry. "Any closer and I won't hesitate to use this."

Regina scowls, shoulders slumping when she glances at Henry and sees the look of terror on his face. "What happened to not using my son for your revenge?"

"It isn't as though your pet left me much choice in the matter," she says. Emma grinds her teeth, quickly growing tired of being referred to as a pet. "I offered to let her have him if she brought you to me, but she refused."

"Liar," Henry shouts before he gasps, dropping to the ground as what appears to be tendrils of lightning shoot from the wand and wrap around his body.

"Oops."

"Do that again and I will destroy you," Regina growls, fists clenching at her side as the anger inside her swells and her magic bubbles to the surface.

"So predictable." Maleficent clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and returns to her throne, arms draped along the side. She studies them both, gaze slowly traversing their bodies; first Regina and then Emma before she lifts her chin and settles on the hate-filled chestnut eyes. "I have a proposition for you, Regina."

"Of course you do," Regina sneers, eyes rolling. This is what she's been waiting for, dreading the moment, but accepting she has no choice if she wants to protect her son.

Maleficent smiles, eyes darting from her to Emma as she says, "You can have your son, but in return I want your pet."

"I—" Regina blinks, so certain it would be her who had to pay the price of her son's freedom that she stiffens as the words finally register, confusion contorting her face. "What?"

"Your pet…" Maleficent pauses, baring her teeth with a grin as she repeats, "For your son."

"No," Regina snaps and steps in front of Emma, realizing how absurd it is the second she does it. Emma doesn't need her protection, but she can't seem to help herself. "She has nothing to do with this, leave her out of it."

"On the contrary," Maleficent counters, amusement in her voice. "You love her, therefore taking her from you will hurt much more than any pain I can inflict on you."

"No," she refuses, freezing once more as Emma touches her back.

"Accept the offer," she murmurs against her ear, stepping in close.

"What?" Regina tries to turn but is stopped by the hands that settle on her hips.

"We both know this plays out one of two ways," Emma reasons, chin settling atop her shoulder, voice low. "You give her what she wants and Henry is returned to you, or she kills him before we kill her. You lose either way, at least this way, Henry is safe."

"She'll hurt you," Regina growls, louder than she intends as she hears the amused chuckle from across the room.

"Only a little," Maleficent interjects and lazily flicks her wrist, a needle appearing between thumb and forefinger. "Remember this?"

Regina's eyes widen, breath catching in her throat. "The sleeping curse?" If Emma sacrifices herself for their son, then she won't be able to save her from that. True Love is the only thing powerful enough to break a curse, and because of what Emma is, they already know it won't work regardless of how much they might love each other.

"Well, she's not really my type and I have no interest in her beyond hurting you." Maleficent shrugs and adds, "What better way than you knowing she is suffering, trapped within a nightmare from which she'll never wake."

Not in the least bit fazed, Emma lifts her head, raising her voice in question, "What do you need me to do?"

"Emma," Regina hisses, turning this time despite the pressure on her hips. "Don't do this. We can find another way. You have no idea what that curse is like and I won't be able to save you."

Emma smiles as she leans in and presses their lips together, putting as much feeling as she is capable into the kiss before she pulls back enough to speak, soft so that only Regina will hear. "Relax, I have a plan,"

"That's what I'm afraid of," Regina mutters, heart thudding against her ribcage. "This is likely your worst one yet."

"You don't even know it," Emma smirks, kissing her on the cheek before she nudges her aside and saunters forward. "Well?"

Maleficent raises an eyebrow, looking over Emma's shoulder to Regina who continues to scowl at the blonde's back. "At least your choices have improved," she says. "This one actually seems to have a backbone, or perhaps it is simply idiocy beneath that bravado."

"Call it what you want," Emma replies, pulling the fairy's attention back to her as she pauses beside Henry and helps him back to his feet. "Go to Regina."

"But Ma," he tries to protest.

"Now," she growls, glancing down at him long enough to glare before he swallows and nods, throwing his arms around her waist. She sighs and pats his shoulder, stepping from the embrace as she pushes him behind her and towards his mother.

Regina watches her inch closer and closer, hoping Emma will simply dash forward and rip Maleficent's throat out. She'd loved the fairy at one point, and may have even let her live after abducting Henry, but this is too far. It isn't fair. She finally finds someone she can see herself spending the rest of her life with, and again all she's left with is a broken heart because of a mistake made almost three decades ago.

When Emma reaches the top of the dais and plucks the needle from Maleficent's outstretched hand, her heart sinks. She is too far away to hear what Maleficent says, but when Emma turns to her with a smile, Regina opens her mouth, willing to risk her ire and out her in an attempt to save her.

"Emma—"

"I love you," Emma interrupts and the words feel like a punch to the gut. Regina sobs, barely feeling the arms that wrap around her as Henry burrows into her side and hides his face within her dress.

"I love you too," she whispers with tears sliding down her cheeks, certain she's heard when the smile widens before she looks down, clasping the back of Henry's head and closing her eyes to the dull thud of Emma's body hitting the floor.

There is silence for all of a few seconds before Maleficent's laughter rings out and Regina's head snaps up, furious. She grabs Henry, placing herself in front him, a snarl on her lips as Maleficent stands and steps over Emma as if she's nothing more than an unwanted stain on the floor.

"I guess she was brave after all," Maleficent concedes, sounding surprised, only to smirk as she descends the dais and adds, "But gullible. Honestly, as if I would let you leave here because she sacrificed herself— you would only come back to try and save her, and then where would I be?"

Regina grinds her teeth. She should have known it wouldn't be that easy. "I never did trust you," she snarls, readying her magic. "I should have killed you when I had the chance."

"Yes," Maleficent agrees, wand in hand as she flings her arm forward. "You should have."

With no more than a split-second to determine what magic she's using, Regina throws up her arm and turns her head, guessing right as she feels the heat against her face and fireball after fireball slams into the shield.

That Maleficent would dare use her own element against her, only angers her more.

"Unwanted, unloved," she snaps, venom lacing each word as she tears down the shield between blasts with a sweep of her hand that throws Maleficent off her feet. "Figures you'd be unoriginal too."

Remembering the chandelier above their heads, she raises her hand and mimics the lash of a whip as she sends her magic towards it. Maleficent vanishes mere seconds before it hits the floor where she'd landed and Regina growls, gathering the glass shards and hurling them in the direction she reappears. She knows she won't be able to keep this up, too long out of practice and already feeling herself weaken with the exertion on her body and mind.

Her aim is off and as the shards embed themselves in the wall, Maleficent laughs again. "Pathetic," she taunts before she rushes her.

Regina inhales sharply, eyes glued to the weapon forming in Maleficent's hand as she shoves Henry aside and conjures a blade of her own. It has been longer still since she's fought with something other than her magic, and is surprised she remembers how as her muscles instinctively react, deflecting the blow Maleficent aims at her head.

Seconds turn to minutes and she manages to avoid every hit, near-misses few and far between. The Evil Queen had always relished a fight, whether with magic or steel, but exhaustion pricks at her conscience and Regina knows she won't last much longer as her movements begin to slow.

With the next blow, she stumbles beneath the weight of it as the vibrations travel through her hand and along her arm. Maleficent drives through her defense, a knowing smile on her lips as Regina raises her other hand, throwing her back at the same moment she feels the tip of the sword slide through her stomach.

Henry rushes to her side as she falls to her knees, staring down at the blade as she drops her own. She looks up and she can see his lips moving, but there are no words and she wonders if this is how it ends; her immortal lover cursed to sleep for all eternity while her son watches her bleed out, mortally wounded by a woman she once considered her only friend.

A tortured scream breaks through the silence and she manages to turn her head, confused—dying as she falls onto her back, attention drawn to the sight of a bloody hand bursting through Maleficent's chest.

She smiles, her last thoughts of emerald eyes and pointed teeth before everything fades to black.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm shamelessly predictable.

Emma hates few things in life. Her monster, guns, liars. Sometimes she thinks there should be more, given the existence of things that irritate her on a day to day basis, but when she thinks about it…

Well. There isn’t.

Watching the life fade from Regina’s eyes; she hated that and what she was forced to do. Regina might thank her when she eventually wakes up, but Emma won’t hold her breath.

Maleficent is dead; if not for the hole in her chest, then for the fact Emma had dropped her heart on the ground and crushed it underfoot in her rush to Regina’s side. A minute more and she would have been too late, and she hasn’t decided yet if she’s glad for it or not. She knows she won’t be if Regina ends up hating her. She doesn’t care if she dies, but she thinks Regina might and that, above all else, is why she did what she did.

She really hopes Regina doesn’t hate her.

With a sigh she turns from the view of mountains as the sun begins its ascent into the sky. While everyone had wandered the castle in search of places to sleep, she’d found what she thinks is Maleficent’s old room and locked them both within, turning anyone who discovered where they were away.

She hasn’t slept.

Even without memories not her own that plague her mind, she doesn’t think she could if she tried. When Regina does eventually wake, she won’t be herself.

Not at first.

Maybe not for a while.

For each fledgling, the change is different, but one thing remains the same; Regina will be enraged, feral, hungry. If her memories are any indication, the transformation will likely be worse than Emma’s own had been, for what she lacks in hate, Regina has in spades; for an abusive mother incapable of love, for a weak and cowardly father who never stood up for her. For Rumplestiltskin and Snow White who both had manipulated, lied and ruined her life in their own special ways. There is even a little in there for her son, for a child who cared for everyone that wasn’t her, filled with a hate of his own despite how much she loved and cared for him.

If Emma is being honest with herself, and she doesn’t see much of a reason not to be, it’d been a pleasant surprise. She no longer feels one way or the other for the boy, but she’s glad to know Regina hadn’t been quite as forgiving as she liked to appear.

Her last memory is much less surprising.

The love Regina had felt in her last moment Emma feels echoed within her own soul, but the hatred is almost more than even she can bear. If Maleficent weren’t already dead, she is certain the fairy would be the first victim and she almost hates herself for robbing Regina of the pleasure.

As the sounds of birdsong fill the chamber, Emma slumps into the chair beside the bed where Regina still sleeps with an impatient sigh. She can’t remember how long it took her to wake, but Regina seems to be taking her sweet time; ten hours and counting.

Actual counting, as Emma was quick to realize there is nothing to do in a medieval world when confined to a single chamber. Why the Elders wanted to come back here, is beyond her. As far as she is concerned, Regina did everyone a favour when she cursed them all to Maine.

Lids starting to droop, she rests her head against the back of her seat and closes her eyes, letting her mind wander. She plays with the ring on her finger, toying with the idea of removing it for dawn to coax her into a deep slumber, but ultimately leaving it on as images of a boy who loved horses almost as much as he loved Regina swim around in her head.

A rap of knuckles on wood is what eventually pulls her from the memories and her body jolts, awareness flooding back into her system as she rises from the chair and walks over to the door. Knowing it is her father before she even opens it is the only thing that keeps the scowl from her face, tired as she is of having to explain her reason for keeping everyone else at bay.

“Victor,” she greets him, weariness written across her features.

“It has been brought to my attention that it’s been some time since you last fed,” he says, brushing passed her and into the room as only he can. “I know you’re worried, but starving yourself isn’t going to help.”

“I’m fine,” she dismisses the concern— the last thing on her mind is her hunger.

“That would be more believable if you didn’t look quite so pale,” he chides and she sighs.

Only he could make her feel like a scolded child at a time like this. “I can wait,” she huffs, running fingers through her hair as she crosses to the window. “You know how I feel about drinking from someone else.”

“The first thing she is going to want when she wakes is blood. You’re going to need your strength if you expect to be able to stop her from—Emma.”

She groans as she turns. “I know, damn it.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head as she follows his gaze to the empty bed. “Emma.”

A shout from somewhere in the castle has her swearing and she rushes through the door, pausing in the hall.

“Dining room, left then right at the end of the corridor.”

Emma bursts through the doors in seconds, taking a moment to study the scene before she decides what needs to be done. Regina has Snow pinned against the wall, one hand at her throat while the other holds off Michael. She notices Henry making an attempt to reach his mother and grabs him first, depositing him on the other side of the room before she reappears behind Regina.

Regina senses her immediately and releases them both. Snow slides down the wall, a hand reaching up to rub at her throat as Michael stumbles back toward the table and Regina turns. The hunger in her eyes has Emma retreating a few steps, more out of surprise than any real concern for her well-being. She’d known Regina would crave blood, but hers won’t do either of them any good.

“You did this to me.” Regina says, head tilted as she watches her retreat. “Don’t you want your thank you?”

Of all the things…

Emma shakes her head, confused and maybe a little bit exasperated as she questions, “What?”

Regina grins, hips swaying as she glides across the floor and into her space. “The power I feel flowing through my veins,” she purrs, pressing a hand against her chest as she leans in. “It is unlike anything I have ever felt before.”

Emma swallows against the sudden flare of arousal in her stomach and tries to distance herself once more. “You need to feed.”

“I am feeling a bit peckish,” Regina drawls with a smirk, teeth flashing and pupils dilating as she reaches for her.

Taking another step back, Emma shakes her head again. “You need to choose someone else,” she says and Regina pouts.

“But I want you.”

Emma aches at the words as Victor walks up beside her. She turns her head, meeting his gaze and ignoring the feeling as best she can. “You’ll need to teach her how to take thralls, but if you drink from me and regain your strength, you can be her first.”

“Beyond the fact drinking from someone else nauseates me, my Sire once said your first creates a dependency.”

“Your Sire was an idiot,” he deadpans, eyes rolling. “Surely you know that by now?”

Emma inclines her head, stifling a smile. Her father rarely insults people, but her Sire seems to hold a special place in his heart. “I’m never certain what lessons I should believe when it comes to her,” she admits. “But I thought there may be some truth to this; I do enjoy her blood more than any other.”

“That is because she is your soul twin,” he states. “As you well know— not because of the darkness or the magic inside of her. Your first merely means developing a preference. You used to prefer those who lean more towards the darkness, and she… Well, drinking from you could mean any number of things really. If you’d rather she feed from me, however…”

He leaves the rest unsaid and before she can consider it, Regina interrupts them. “Emma.”

Feeling the way her name buries itself beneath her skin, Emma turns and Regina grins as she says, “I don’t want to feed from him, Emma.”

Emma clenches her jaw, appalled by the sudden urge she has to close the distance between them and fall to her knees. It isn’t that she wouldn’t—she’s done it before, after all—but only one other outside of the Council has ever been powerful enough to use the voice on her that easily, and _she_ was considered the mother of all nightwalkers in their world.

Victor chuckles and her head snaps back to him. “Her magic does however give her certain… abilities,” he muses, glancing between them. “Alessa did so love to make a person feel helpless.”

Emma stares at him, surprised by the wistfulness in his voice. “Your horrendous taste in women aside,” she replies, finding her train of thought. “I remember my first feeding—”

“You mean the one where you spent two days ignoring the hunger?” He smirks as she purses her lips. “As her Sire, it is up to you to ensure her survival and as the only other nightwalker in this world…”

Glaring, she interrupts him. “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence. I had two choices and I wasn’t about to let her die, but that doesn’t mean I intend to start turning other people.”

“In the grand scheme of things, intentions matter little.” She continues to glare at him and he shrugs, conceding, “But… that is a conversation for another time. For now, your lover needs to feed, which means you need to feed. Shall we take this somewhere else or—”

Emma grabs him by the arm, cutting him off as she sinks her teeth into his wrist. She closes her eyes against the first wave of nausea, drawing as much of his blood into her mouth as she can stomach before quickly forcing it down her throat. What she had once thought sweet and rich, now leaves behind a pungent taste in her mouth and after taking her fill, she pushes him away before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“What I wouldn’t give for a bottle of mouthwash,” she groans, ignoring the double smirks she receives in response. “Or three.”

“My turn,” Regina says, reaching for her again.

Emma captures her hand, entwining their fingers. “Not here.”

The second the words leave her mouth, Regina grins and her vision becomes shrouded in a familiar lilac smoke as the scent of pepper and vanilla assault her senses. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

* * *

 

Disoriented, Emma stumbles before Regina tugs her back against her and slides an arm around her waist. “Now,” she murmurs throatily. “Where were we?”

Looking around at where they’ve appeared, Emma frowns in confusion. “Well we were in the dining hall, now we’re apparently in a dungeon.” She turns to face Regina, brow raised. “You know there are perfectly good bedrooms we could use.”

“We can’t all risk walking around in daylight, Miss Swan.”

Emma’s frown returns at the formal use of her name. It’s been months since Regina last called her that with _that_ inflection and— “Are you mad at me?”

Regina shrugs and says, “Maybe. I haven’t decided yet. I am, however, still hungry.”

Emma blinks at the reminder of why they’re alone in the first place. “Right,” she says, brushing her hair over her shoulder as she tilts her head, exposing her neck. “It’s pretty straight—”

A strangled sound—that she will later deny any and all knowledge of existing—escapes her throat as teeth sink into flesh and the arm tightens around her waist, almost to the point of pain.

Yeah, she thinks— Regina is definitely mad at her.

Her eyes flutter shut, head back in sheer ecstasy as the blood rushes through her veins and pours into the hot, suckling mouth at her pulse.

With each draw, the heat in her stomach ebbs, growing hotter and more intense until she feels as though every nerve in her body has been set aflame. Regina continues to suck, her moans of pleasure reverberating against skin and sending liquid fire rippling through Emma, straight to her sex.

A hand cups her between the legs as Regina lifts her head, fingers sliding between thighs and rubbing her through her pants. “You taste divine,” she husks, tongue flicking against the lobe of her ear before she returns to her neck.

“Christ,” Emma groans as teeth punch through rapidly healing flesh and her hips jerk. She presses into the fingers, grinding down on them as a fog begins to settle in her mind and she loses herself to the feeling of euphoria.

Her strength slowly diminishes around the time spots begin to appear in her vision and her back bends of its own accord, but by then, Regina has managed to slip her hand beneath the waistband of her trousers and Emma can’t bring herself to stop it, drowning in the sensations of fingers, lips and teeth as her body reacts to every stroke—every suck and graze of teeth against skin.

When the hunger is sated and Regina eventually does break away from her neck, Emma can barely stand on her own, and Regina grins knowingly down at her. “It would seem you’re at my mercy, Miss Swan.”

Emma smiles back, indulgent, content to let her mind wade through bliss as the words send a shiver down her spine. “Always have been.”

The grin is quick to soften, and then Regina is smiling—laughing quietly as she shakes her head. “You’re ruining my malice, beloved.”

“Sorry,” Emma offers, the apology half-hearted and barely leaving the tip of her tongue before a moan chases it from her lips.

Regina hums, trailing eyes that darken with each passing second down between them to the bulge of her hand. Emma clenches around her fingers, arching in an attempt to take more of them in, only for Regina to guide them back to her clit. “I think we need to take these off.”

Emma groans at the thought. “Only if you can do it without removing your hand,” she says, too far gone to bother trying to prevent the desperation she feels from entering her voice.

Regina chuckles and Emma squirms as she pinches her clit. “Would you perhaps be more amendable to the idea if I were to admit I often fantasized about having my magic so we wouldn’t need toys ever again?”

The arousal shifts just enough for Emma to make sense of the words and she blinks up at her in surprise. “You can do that?”

Dark lips curl with a mischievous smile. “I can do many things,” Regina purrs, leaning in, their faces mere inches apart.

Emma strains her neck, capturing those lips in a kiss as she feels her strength starting to return. She slowly straightens her back, pushing forward as her tongue enters a warm, wet mouth. Regina moans, unwinding the arm from around her waist and tangling fingers in her hair as she gives in to the insistent push of Emma’s body against her own, walking backwards and feeling the bars of their cell digging in to her back.

Yanking the hand from her pants, Regina tugs at the waistband and Emma takes the hint, quickly unfastening the button and pulling on the zip before shoving them down her thighs. Nails dig into flesh and she moans encouragement, rolling hips as Regina squeezes her ass and seizes her lower lip between teeth.

Tasting the familiar tang of her own blood, Emma moans again. Regina grins, drawing back and calling attention to her newly pointed teeth as she lets go. Emma palms her cheek, catching the tip of her tooth on the edge of her thumb, and smirking when Regina snaps her teeth in mock threat.

“Vampirism suits you,” she says, kissing her on the lips before she adds, “My Queen.”

Regina smiles coyly. “Rumple always said the darkness likes how I taste.”

“I can certainly attest to that,” Emma agrees, face contorting in the next moment when she adds, “As horrified as I am at the thought of him saying such things—to you, no less.”

Amusement in her eyes, Regina tilts her head and teases, “I do hope that isn’t jealousy I detect in your tone, Miss Swan.”

Emma rolls her eyes and huffs. “I think you’ll find that’s nausea, Your Majesty.”

Regina chuckles, the deep sound of the vibrations thrumming within her throat causing Emma to slicken further. “How unfair is it that you’ve been a nightwalker less than a day and I’m already addicted?”

Brow rising in disbelief, Regina replies, “If you’re trying to imply you weren’t before, I’m afraid I may need to laugh in your face.”

“Funny, smart, sexy with a voice as smooth as a nice, slow release and a body worthy of the most reverent worship…” Emma shrugs, attention returning to said body as her hands begin to wander. “I was definitely addicted to the Mayor, but I think you might actually kill me.”

Regina pouts. “Well that seems like a perfectly decent waste of a plaything.”

Wondering at the lack of offense she feels, Emma narrows her eyes and questions, “Why do I not find that insulting?”

     “Likely for the same reason I enjoy the thought of being bound and gagged while you fuck me from behind,” Regina murmurs, distracted as wandering hands begin to reignite her arousal.

Emma groans, hands tugging at her dress. “You really need to share your thoughts more often.”

“I do believe that is the first time anyone has ever said that to me,” Regina drawls, rolling her eyes and slapping the hands away before she flicks her wrist, rendering them both completely naked.

“You know,” Emma comments, lazily trailing her hands over hips, fingers dancing along Regina’s spine as she speaks. “Even though my introduction to magic was less than ideal, what with the whole being sucked into another world; I’m starting to understand the appeal.”

Regina grabs her by the shoulders and spins them, slamming Emma back against the bars as she leans in and promises, “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll wonder how you ever lived without.”

As if to prove her words, Emma feels something warm and hard between her thighs. Her eyes widen before they slide down that beautiful body, and her mouth falls open at the sight of the shaft protruding from Regina’s crotch.

“Holy shit.”

Another chuckle; deep, dirty and delicious rings in her ears as her mouth snaps shut. “See something you like?”

Emma swallows and licks her lips before lifting her gaze. “Want,” she corrects, the rasp of her voice combined with that one word causing chestnut eyes to darken and nostrils to flare before Regina crashes into her.

A tongue forces its way into her mouth as Regina grabs her thigh. Emma hooks the leg around her waist, opening herself up to be taken hard and fast but Regina is content to make her wait. She traces the leg to her knee and holds Emma in place, her cock nestled between warm, wet lips as she focuses on exploring her mouth.

Emma groans— part frustration, part pleasure as she brings her arms up over shoulders and wraps them around Regina’s neck. Between the bars at her back and Regina at her front, there is little room to maneuver but even so, she can feel her arousal coating the entire length of the cock as she rolls her hips, shameless and wanton as desire takes over.

With her free hand, Regina traces the outline of ribs, nails scratching along every indent as they each become more frantic in their movements. Emma feels her nipples harden, flesh puckered and tight by the time those fingers curl around her breast. Regina swipes a stiff little nub with the pad of her thumb and breaks the kiss, lowering her head and taking the nipple into her mouth as Emma arches with a moan.

The heat in her veins threatens to burn her from the inside out, and Emma is overcome with the urge to beg Regina to put her out of her misery. She opens her mouth, the plea on the end of her tongue before she realizes Regina is in motion and the words stick in her throat.

Regina draws back, the tip of her cock brushing against Emma’s clit. Emma jerks as if electrocuted and Regina grins around the flesh in her mouth, sucking hard as she pushes her hand between them. She hums as her fingers wrap around her cock, stroking herself a few times as she enjoys the feeling of Emma’s arousal painting its length before she slowly slides forward, guiding the shaft back to the promise of tight, clenching heat.

Mouth open, a moan bursts from Emma’s chest as Regina enters her and her eyes roll into the back of her head, overwhelmed by the increasing pleasure of fullness. She’d sworn off men after Neal, and didn’t realize until now just how much she misses it.

The fake kind were all well and good in the moment and with someone who knows what they’re doing, but nothing can compare to the real thing— Emma is more certain of that fact now that Regina is the one buried inside of her.

“Regina,” she croaks, forcing her eyes open and her head down. Dark eyes peer up at her and she shudders at the desire she sees in them. “Please just fuck me already.”

Releasing her breast, Regina nips the over-stimulated bud with teeth before kissing her way up Emma’s chest. Emma sighs, threading fingers through her hair and welcoming the tongue back into her mouth, their pleasure echoing within the kiss when Regina pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in.

For several minutes, Regina maintains the torturous pace; in and out with slow, broad strokes. Emma moans each time, meeting every thrust, the muscles in her leg flexing against a back and forcing the cock in a little deeper—a little harder than Regina intends.

As the heat in her stomach begins to spread, nails rake from knee to thigh and she whimpers as Regina palms the cheek of her ass. She hesitates, unsure, when she feels a tap against her other thigh, and opens her eyes as Regina breaks the kiss and pulls out to the tip.

“Lift,” Regina growls, tone demanding and Emma obeys, wrapping both legs around hips and almost coming then and there as Regina sinks in deeper.

“Oh god.”

Regina smirks. “Hold tight,” she purrs, dragging the tip of her cock along the roof of Emma’s cunt and moaning as she plunges back in.

With each thrust, she increases the pace, driving in deeper and faster as she loses herself to the feeling of the slippery heat wrapped around her cock. Emma groans, burying her face in the crook of her neck as Regina relentlessly pounds away, her back striking the bars with every thrust, the pain adding another layer to an already exquisite assault on her senses.

Emma cries out as her release hits, the muffled sound mixing with that of the choked whimper of her name as Regina gives one last thrust before she stiffens. Emma shudders and clings to her, walls contracting— milking her cock and extending both their pleasure as Regina comes, filling Emma with every jerk of her hips.

Minutes pass as they come down from their highs, wrapped around each other and basking in the aftermath of two mind-blowing orgasms. Regina recovers first and the hunger from earlier remains in her voice as she questions, “What are your thoughts on that bound and gagged scenario I mentioned earlier?

Head rolling against her shoulder, Emma blinks and waits until her mind catches up with the words before she responds. “You haven’t even pulled out and you’re already planning what to do next?”

“Preparation is the key to success, Miss Swan,” Regina replies and flicks her wrist.

“Success of what,” Emma groans at the sudden feeling of emptiness and gingerly lowers her feet to the ground. “Getting laid?”

Regina smirks, brow lifted at the note of sarcasm as she states, “Precisely.”

Emma shakes her head, smiling. “All you need is to be you for that.”

“Charmer,” Regina accuses and kisses her softly, the passion dampened but very much still alive as she draws away and fixes Emma with a narrowed gaze. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Face blank, Emma stares back at her and says, “I think at this point, you can assume I’m on board with any and all kinky bedroom activities you come up with; past, present and future.”

Regina chuckles. “Well now,” she drawls and squeezes her ass. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Stop stealing my lines,” Emma demands, cutting off Regina’s responding laughter with her lips as lilac smoke gathers them once more and whisks them off to another part of the castle.


	28. Chapter 28

Emma rolls to her back, muscles weakened from remaining in the same position. Regina follows, a devilish grin on her lips as she straddles her hips, hands roaming hot skin slick with sweat as she lowers her head and captures kiss-swollen lips with her own.

Moaning despite her exhaustion, Emma turns from the kiss with a grin and places a hand on her chest, pushing back with barely any pressure at all. If Regina wants to go again, she knows she'll eventually cave but they've been at it for hours now and she could really use a moment. They've been through this dance at least three times and it always results in her conceding, which means she's given up all pretense of resisting, but it also means Regina is more inclined to give her a few minutes respite before they start all over again.

"And I used to think you were the insatiable one," comes the teasing purr as Regina settles, chest to chest as she drapes herself across Emma and rests her head above a shoulder.

"I think I lost that title around the third hour," Emma agrees, closing her eyes to the chuckle in her ear as she embraces Regina, hands mindlessly wandering the slightly cooling flesh of her back.

Emma hasn't quite figured out why Regina is different from all the other changes she's seen, but she's beginning to think it might have something to do with her magic. And, maybe, there is a little ball buried somewhere deep inside of her that hopes she is also partly to blame. Her father would probably understand the reason, whatever it might be. After close to three centuries of leading the Brethren, Victor knows more about the nightwalkers they guard than a majority of the Elders. It is mostly thanks to him, and to Michael, that she has survived as long as she has with almost no effort at all.

Everything she knows about the nightwalkers; the history, the innumerable legacies that unite, and sometimes break the alliances between covens— had come from them. Thanks to Victor, she learned to control her anger through productive violence rather than mindless destruction, the line between thin yet surprisingly effective. Being a bounty hunter had given her an outlet, and when that wasn't enough, Victor would offer one of his clan members up for training.

Michael continued to make his random appearances a few times a year, but it wasn't until she'd taken the head from her Sire that the Council had elected him as one of her Guardians. It would have happened sooner, had he still been a member of Victor's clan but— that is a memory for later, she decides, feeling the warmth leave her body as she emerges from her thoughts.

"Going somewhere?"

Regina throws a smile over her shoulder as she slips back into her dress. "I thought while you were lost in your daydream, I might amuse myself by terrorizing Snow White for a while."

Emma shakes her head, unable to hide her own smile as she says, "I don't think Henry will appreciate you scaring his grandmother."

Regina turns to her with a puzzled look. "I thought you said we don't feel."

Momentarily distracted by the sight of the dress strap falling from her shoulder, it takes a moment for the words to register before Emma frowns. "I told you there's an echo," she reminds her, rolling from the bed and glancing about the room in search of her clothes. "We feel as much as we can, but it's more that our bodies have no response to emotion outside of those we force for… whatever reason."

"When you mentioned Henry, I felt ashamed…" Emma faces her, her frown deepening when Regina adds, "It didn't feel like an echo, Emma."

There is a sadness in her voice that sounds genuine and it confuses Emma as much as the words do. She can't recall much from when she was turned, but she does remember feelings that she immediately knew weren't real. The only time she herself has ever questioned her ability to feel is in the case of—her eyes widen in realization.

She chuckles in the next moment and shakes her head. "I should have known you'd be special," she says, running fingers through her hair. She doubts they can ever be a hundred percent certain but— "I never thought I'd say this, but you should ask Victor about Alessa. He knew her better than anyone, and if I'm right then you two probably have more in common than I thought."

"You know what's wrong with me." Denial ready on the tip of her tongue, Regina prevents her from voicing it as she demands, "Tell me."

"I can't." Emma sighs before she admits, "I only sort of understand it because of you, but we're soul bound, Regina; this isn't a connection you can have with anyone else. Alessa was… sort of an exception. She didn't meet her soul twin until she came to this world, but she did have a connection to her children. I can't explain it to you because I know the bare minimum of that story."

Regina looks thoughtful before she tilts her head and states with conviction, "Victor was her soul twin."

"Victor is her soul twin," Emma corrects. She'd known it was only a matter of time before she let that secret slip, and rolls her eyes at herself. "She isn't dead, she's just been missing for the better part of the last… century or so. I only know because Michael can't keep his mouth shut."

"Whether by blood or circumstance, it would seem your entire family suffers that unfortunate affliction." Regina smirks and Emma shrugs, not particularly offended by the comment.

It isn't as though she can deny it, not now that she's admitted her adoptive father has broken a cardinal rule among Brethren and Nightwalkers, and kept it to herself for all this time. The Council aren't particularly forgiving when it comes to their rules and people keeping secrets from them, but then; Emma has never been particularly fond of rules to begin with, and she's never understood why the punishment for breaking said rule is death.

For those who claim their supernatural existence is something akin to godhood, they were all too happy to murder their own kind for the most asinine reasons. If there is a single reason Emma is glad to be in another world, it's her escape from the constant, oppressive presence of the Council and all the idiotic rules they themselves are quick to ignore when it suits them.

"Point being," she continues, dismissing those particular thoughts. "As far as the stories go, she wa—is the only surviving nightwalker to exist who possesses magic, which makes you different and… this is exactly what he meant when he said you have certain abilities."

Offering absolutely nothing in terms of an explanation, Regina sighs and says, "You'll need to run that by me again."

"I'm an idiot," Emma deadpans, taking another cursory glance around the room before she huffs. "Where are my clothes?"

"Floating somewhere along the river, I imagine." Noting her blank look, Regina questions, "What?"

Emma blinks, realizing she had said exactly what she'd heard and offers, "They were clean?"

"That shirt was hideous," Regina replies, pausing before she adds, "Your mother's doing, no doubt."

Emma ignores the comment, certain she knows the answer but asking regardless. "And the pants?"

"Not nearly tight enough."

Okay, so it wasn't exactly what she expected but—well, she isn't about to argue. She would have liked to keep her jeans, but after numerous comments on the bloodstains, she decided changing was less of a hassle than resisting the desire to strangle anyone who thought what she wore was more important than making sure Regina didn't go on a killing spree when she woke.

The shirt. The shirt, she concedes silently, was hideous. Snow claimed it brought out the colour in her eyes, but Emma honestly thought it only made her look as though someone had thrown up on her. Such was her lack of desire to argue, she'd still given into insistence for the sake of driving the annoying woman from the room as quickly as possible.

"You wanna conjure me a new outfit then?"

"Why? I quite like you how you are." Emma shrugs and walk to the door, reaching for the handle only to find it stuck before she turns, brow raised knowingly. "Where do you think you're going?"

"We need to talk to Victor," she says, folding her arms. "One of few points in favour of what I am; I have no shame, and therefore no problem going out there naked."

Eyes narrowed, Regina bares her teeth and flicks her wrist. Uncrossing her arms and looking down at herself, Emma nods her approval at the choice, reminded of the last time she'd worn this outfit, vivid memories of being torn out of it filling her head. Regina really likes her in silk shirts and tight jeans.

"You win this round, Miss Swan," Regina says, brushing her aside and opening the door.

"Please stop calling me that."

Regina smirks and steps out into the hall, a "No," thrown over her shoulder.

* * *

After talking to Henry and avoiding as many questions as possible, Regina wanders over to where Victor sits by himself. She'd noticed him over the last hour simply observing everyone, doing his best to keep his eyes from latching on to Emma, and failing more often than not. She doesn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed that her transformation apparently hasn't dampened her curiosity, but she sweeps across the room and takes a seat beside him, more concerned about getting answers than she is in sinking deeper into an irritable mood.

"I have questions your daughter poorly pretends not to have answers to," she says, seeing no reason for pretense.

"Her ability to lie seems to worsen with age," he replies, slowly turning his head. He flashes a smile, the fact his words have caught her off guard written across her face, and says, "I assume this is about your magic and what effect it will have on you now that you're…"

He trails off and she raises an eyebrow. "Dead," she supplies, her tone wholly indifferent despite the tightening of her throat.

"I was going to say not human, but if that's what you want to call it." She rolls her eyes and he grins before turning his attention back to the rest of the room. "Your powers will be—for lack of a better term—amplified; I would suggest mastering your control over them as quickly as possible, as not everyone will be quite as forgiving as my daughter."

Regina frowns, eyes searching the room for Emma. "What are you talking about?"

"Nightwalkers refer to their ability to seduce as the Voice," he replies. "It is a form of mind control—a suggestion planted within the victim to trick them into believing the person before them is harmless, but it also strengthens the desire they feel for them…"

Sensing the pause, Regina briefly pulls her gaze away from the sight of that smile on lips she recalls, only a short while ago, were leaving their fiery trail across her flesh. "You used it on her," he states simply when their eyes meet. "I had a feeling you hadn't meant to, and you should know that it surprised her you were able."

As her frown deepens, he continues. "While less susceptible to suggestion, Nightwalkers can fall victim to it. Emma has only ever succumbed to one other, and she tried to kill him as soon as she recovered."

Feeling her lip curl, Regina repeats, "Tried?"

"He was a member of the Council." Victor sighs and leans back, legs crossed at the ankles as he explains, "Had Michael not intervened when he did, she would have either died or been put to death when she succeeded."

Anger, unlike anything she's ever felt before, surges through Regina. The man had practically mind raped Emma, and she was the one who'd be punished for rightfully murdering the son of a bitch? It dawns on her a little too late that she'd done the exact same thing, fuming as she shoots to her feet and immediately feeling all the eyes in the room fall on her.

Victor rises, a hand on her shoulder as he leads her from the room and away from the others. She can hear Henry questioning Emma as they depart, and closes her eyes in an attempt to drown out their voices.

"What's wrong with her?"

"Don't worry about it, kid," Emma replies. "She's in good hands."

When the hand on her shoulder tightens and forces her to stop, her eyes snap open to immediately fall on the beam of light in front of them and she quickly steps back with a scowl. Her magic was apparently strong enough to stop her soul from being ripped from her body during the day, but upon returning to the room she shared with Emma yesterday, she'd soon discovered sunlight is still very much an enemy to her.

Making a mental note to later travel the castle in search of these potential hazards, she throws up a hand and the light vanishes beneath the thick, heavy drape she conjures over the window. "Alessa said they used to spell the glass," Victor comments from beside her as they resume their walk. "That it would turn black and transform the glass so that it couldn't break."

"Spells require someone to sustain them," she replies after little consideration. "Perhaps a hundreds year old vampire sorceress has no trouble depleting her strength for such a trivial thing, but I much prefer the simpler method."

"Actually, they would find the weakest of witches and change them, virtually turning them into batteries so they didn't need to weaken themselves."

Her head whips to the side to gauge his seriousness and she sighs at his expression. "Lovely," she murmurs. "You've mentioned Alessa a number of times now, I assume that means you know your daughter is aware of your relationship?"

He inclines his head. "As you said, she is a terrible liar, and I know my son better than anyone. As soon as he was appointed her Guardian, those two have been practically inseparable. It was only a matter of time before she learned the truth, if not from him, then I would have told her eventually."

Recalling the night they met, Regina frowns. "He wasn't there when she brought Henry home."

"No." He sighs, smiling as he says, "She often sent him away with one impossible errand or another. Even as a child, she hated people hovering over her. She wasn't about to let the Council dictate whose company she kept, but he was never far when she needed him."

"You both clearly love her," she says, that damnable curiosity causing her voice to lighten.

"We do."

"That begs the question then," she adds, having wondered this for a while and too much a part of Emma's life now that she'd like to finally have an answer to the question that's been bugging her since she'd found out he was Emma's father once upon a time. "Why did you send her back?"

"I thought we were doing this for you."

She clenches her jaw against the protest that springs to mind, catching his grin from the corner of her eye. "Humour me," she growls, not in the mood for the games his family adore. She'd gotten rid of one imp from her life, only to have three more replace him.

"Much like the Nightwalkers and their covens, the Brethren are made up of clans. While they are governed by the six eldest and—often mislabeled—wisest of their kind, we prefer to choose our leaders based on a test of strength." Pausing, he waits for her nod before he adds, "Each clan has their own alpha who manages the day to day running but obviously, there needs to be someone who leads them and for the last three hundreds year or so, that someone has been me."

Bringing them to a stop as she turns to face him, Regina raises an eyebrow, still awaiting an answer to her question. He chuckles and continues, "In order to hold my position, I must prove that I am the strongest of the alphas and part of that is accepting the many challenges I receive from the other clan leaders. Sometimes, those challenges become an all out war between clans and there are often casualties beyond what we might wish."

As she begins to understand, he smiles softly and places a hand at her back, starting them forward again. "I sent her back because she deserved better than to become a child casualty of a war she had no part in," he confirms the thought as it crosses her mind.

"Does she know this?"

He laughs then, shaking his head when she looks at him in confusion. "If she didn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation and she would still be trying to kill me."

* * *

The sun has long since made its decent when Emma finally goes in search of her father and mate. Michael, Red, Richard and Graham had formed a hunting party to go out into the forest in search of food for the rest of the group, leaving her alone with Snow and Henry. She hadn't minded until Snow started badgering her, and then it all went down hill.

"You don't know what she was like."

"People already thought she was a monster, now what will they think?"

"She was evil, and now she won't feel anything for the misery she causes."

What made it worse is that Henry merely sat there looking all forlorn while his grandmother went on a tirade about his mother. He didn't even attempt to defend her, and if not for knowing better—knowing Regina would feel something, Emma would've ripped into them both, potentially leaving one of them to bleed out on the floor like Regina had, listening to their selfish cries to save them as she turned her back on them, feeling nothing for their loss.

How quickly she imagines Snow White's tune would change if she let slip that Regina's death would also mean her own. How would they react, knowing that as she stumbled over to the weak form of her mate, she had felt her own soul leaving her body?

They would never understand the effort or the agony she'd endured in those few minutes it took to cradle Regina's head in her arms, teeth buried in her throat as she stole what remained of the life left in a woman who could speak to her very soul with a simple glance—to wonder at how it might hurt her to lose the only love she would ever come close to feeling.

Growling and shaking her head, Emma pushes the thoughts away. They can think and believe whatever they want to but the fact of the matter is that if she could go back, she wouldn't change a damn thing about that moment. After twenty eight years of feeling abandoned and alone, she's finally found the one person in the world that makes life, nightwalker or human, worth living and she isn't about to give that up for anyone, or thing.

Coming to where she senses her father behind a closed door, she tilts her head at the silence from within and frowns. Pushing her way into the room, her frown only deepens further as she first notices Regina laid out on the love seat beside the fire before she looks to Victor.

He watches over Regina from a chair opposite the table between them, a smile on his lips as he turns his head at her approach. "She relies too much on her magic," he explains, correctly reading her expression as that of slowly growing anger when she realizes Regina is unconscious.

Emma twitches, annoyed by the reminder that she can never hide anything from him as she falls to her knees beside her mate. She reaches out, brushing the hair from Regina's face as she searches her for injuries.

Finding none, she glances across to her father who answers the question in her eyes. "When she realized her magic was having little effect, she became angry." He shrugs and adds, "I thought it best to end our lesson before she lost control."

She rolls her eyes and stands as she says, "I could have told you this wouldn't work. Did you two even bother talking before this?"

"Yes," he replies, frowning. "Do you think she left out something I should know?"

"Her entire life has been one cluster fuck after another, magic is the one thing that hurt her most, but it's also the only thing she's ever been able to rely on." Sighing, she carefully shifts Regina's legs closer to the back of the seat and sits in the small space she's created on the edge. "I know it worked for me, but anger and hate don't seem to be her problem; first blood competitions aren't going to cut it."

"If you're implying what I think, then you know I can't help her." He sighs and she looks down at the floor as he continues.

"I can teach her to fight, to use her powers to protect herself and those she considers worthy of protecting but when it comes to understanding what drives her; that is up to her." At her continued silence, she hears him shift forward in his chair. "Who?"

"Henry."

"She loved him," he states, not a question but one she responds to regardless.

"More than anything," she murmurs, voice hardening as she meets his gaze. "More than he deserves."

"A mother's love can be a powerful thing." She flinches at that, knowing it would have hurt if it could, and he quickly adds, "You didn't know him, Emma. You may have loved him just as deeply, but this isn't about you. You know what losing him will do to her—to both of you. You need to help her, which means you need to help him."


	29. Chapter 29

Waking to the sound of laughter, Regina furrows her brow. She had often wondered while trekking through the forest if she would ever hear that sound again, and it is a curious feeling that flutters in her stomach as it rings in her ears.  Head lolling to the side, she stares out through the open doors of the balcony and smiles at the sight she sees. Emma leans against the railing, an expression of smug satisfaction on her face as she looks to something out of view, the moon highlighting her frame against the darkened backdrop of the mountains.

Emma senses her stare and their eyes meet before she begins to move. A voice Regina knows to be Michael’s whispers something low—mocking, and Emma is grinning as she enters their room. She falls to her knees beside the settee where Regina lies, her head tilted to the side as though curious; a puppy, wondering if it’s owner will welcome them with open arms, or slap them on the nose with a rolled up newspaper. Regina bites her lip at her mind’s comparison, teetering somewhere on the line between exasperation and amusement at herself for such a ridiculous thought.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” she murmurs and reaches for the hand Emma raises, bringing it to her cheek and leaning into the palm. Her years of learning magic from Rumplestiltskin had been child’s play to what Victor has put her through in the last three days alone, and there is a weariness in her muscles that she finds surprising and, somehow, not surprising at all.

Victor hasn’t been at all gentle with her but unlike those who’d taught her in the past, she is grateful for it. Magic has always intoxicated her, the power of it surging through her in moments of anger is a rush too great to be measured in simple words but this new power? There is nothing like it; not in this world or any other. Magic weakens, draining the user until they’re barely able to keep themselves upright. It threatens to exhaust them, and sometimes even kill them.

As a nightwalker, she is slowly reaching a high she never would have dared to imagine. All that strength and speed, and for what? The laughable price of a humanity that had been taken from her long before she was turned? People had feared the Evil Queen, and she had milked them for all the terror they were worth, but the power she wields now would have destroyed entire worlds.

Oh how much more she understands Emma; her restraint, her loathing for the monster she becomes when she loses control. Regina lives for that loss, for the strength to tear down every obstacle thrown her way in pursuit of what she wants—of a happiness she thought would always be denied her. With or without her heart, she feels happier and more alive now than she ever has, and it is all thanks to this precious creature staring down at her with a smile so bright it could make an enemy of the sun itself.

“You were out a little longer this time,” Emma says, leaning down until their foreheads touch. “Needed a nap, did you?”

Regina grins and releases the hand that remains against her cheek as she slides her own into golden tresses, gathering them up and twisting them around her fingers. She pushes down, resisting the desire to lift her chin that extra inch and Emma takes the hint, still smiling as she captures her lips. Regina hums, guiding her other hand up over a shoulder and around a neck, clasping tight, pulling down until she feels Emma’s chest press flat against her own.

In exchange for this, her humanity can go off and drown itself in a lake for all she gives a damn. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to sleeping the day away,” she confesses once they part. “Voluntary or otherwise.”

“It was…” Emma pauses, a thoughtful expression on her face. She shrugs after less than a minute and continues, “… suggested to me; that we may want to look into crafting another ring.”

“Michael would be as effective as a new born kitten if we were to do that.”

Emma laughs, tone playfully chiding when she says, “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“Too late,” Michael singsongs and their heads snap to the side. Regina smirks at his overly dramatic pout and he winks before shoving from the door frame, entering their room.

“As brilliant a suggestion as it was, however, it wasn’t mine.” He sighs, as if entirely too put upon by that fact and, with a gesture behind him, adds, “You can thank your son, and then explain to me why Red is insisting she be the one to help rather than my father.”

Eyes drawn to Henry whose feet remain firmly planted on the balcony behind the wolf, Regina catches that last bit and immediately glances back at Michael, forehead crinkling once again, only this time in confusion. “Red?”

Emma chuckles, flipping from her knees to her backside and leaning back against the settee. “She’s been arguing with Victor for the better part of the day about it.”

Regina shakes her head in disbelief, just as surprised by that as the two siblings. “I haven’t the foggiest idea why it would matter to her,” she says, pushing herself up into a seated position and running a hand through her hair.

Red has always been a staunch defender of Snow White. Even in Storybrooke, she’d always felt some of that animosity the woman unknowingly has for her, and sleeping with her certainly hadn’t altered their relationship. If anything, it had only made matters worse.

“She wants to be in your group.”

This is from Henry and Regina slowly turns her gaze back to him, surprised he’d spoken at all given he hasn’t said a word to her since Victor led her from the dining hall. It hurts—or it at least feels like it should; that she is back to being nothing more than a monster in his eyes. She has reasoned his silence away, telling herself he is simply confused and that he will eventually realize she is still the same woman she was.

She is still his mother.

Three days later, and the reason still tastes like a bitter lie on the tip of her tongue.

“Sweetheart?”

He moves forward, closer and closer, inch by inch until he’s standing beside Michael who places a hand on his shoulder. Her frown deepens, questions forming in her head that she wants to ask but resists, for the moment, more interested in finding out what he means by his comment.

“Think about it,” he says and she tries. She really does, but she needn’t have bothered as the silence barely settles before he starts talking again. “She’s little red riding hood, Mom.”

Regina purses her lips, wanting so much to focus on the fact he called her _mom_ but ignoring the desire to do so as she feels a hand stroke her leg through her trousers. She glances down briefly and offers Emma a smile when she sees her looking up at her, and then inclines her head for Henry to continue.

“She spent her whole life thinking she was alone until she met her mother and had to kill her pack to save gra—” He hurries to correct himself at a clearing of the throat from Emma. “Snow. You’re like the leader of the pack—”

Emma snorts, protesting with a “Hey” when Regina swats the back of her head. Henry ignores them both, “She wants to prove herself so she can join you and be with people who understand her. She ate her _boyfriend_ , Mom. Victor and Michael can help her—and I’m pretty sure she’s in love with Richard… sorry Uncle Mike.”

“First off; no to that name,” Michael drawls, grinning. “Second, I have someone so who cares? And third…” He sighs, mock exasperated, as he concedes, “I think he might be on to something.”

“Who cares,” Regina repeats, stuck on the second. It is far easier to tease him than dwell on reasons for why anyone who associates themselves with Snow White might actually _want_ to help her. “How quickly you dismiss years of pining when another handsome man is dangled in front of you.”

“We can’t all nurture our grudges and inspire the masses with a dark, life altering curse,” he replies, teasing in kind. “Let it go, Regina.”

Head shaking, she fails in her attempt to deny him the satisfaction of seeing her smile, and rolls her eyes at his smug grin before she notices Henry watching them. It amazes her sometimes; how similar he and Emma can be. Emma is often more quiet than not, content to observe those around her. He is the only other person she knows that can get away with staring at her for long periods, and not have it bother her in the least.

“You have a question,” she states, recognizing the look in his eyes. He nods. “You may ask.”

“Will you really die if Emma does?”

Regina blinks. Whatever she’d been expecting, it certainly wasn’t _that_. “Who,” she starts, only to roll her eyes when realization dawns and she glares at Michael. “What is wrong with you?”

Michael opens his mouth, but it’s Emma who offers up the response. “Dropped on his head as a baby… multiple times, if you believe a word our father says.”

“There has to be more to it than that,” Regina argues. “Diarrhea of the mouth or _something_. He’s as bad as Snow.”

“I was only trying to help,” Michael protests, throwing up his hands as though _she_ _’s_ the one with the problem.

“With what?” Her voice rises with incredulity. “Scarring my son so that he’ll be forced to attend therapy for the rest of his life?”

“Mom.”

Mouth snapping shut, Regina slowly closes her eyes and then opens them again before turning her attention back to her son. She is still learning, still—processing. In the past, anger had been a good thing. It protected her, gave her distance from those looking to manipulate and deceive her for their own gain. Here, in this room, with these three people who somehow still mean something to her; it is useless.

“Henry,” she replies, resigned.

“So it’s true?”

Forcing an irritable breath through her nostrils, Regina stifles the growl in her throat and nods stiffly. His forehead crinkles and she scarcely believes the concern that enters his eyes before he launches himself across the remaining distance between them, straight into her lap. She freezes briefly, shocked, and then returns the embrace as he buries his head in the crook of her shoulder.

To say she is confused would be an understatement.

“Henry,” she repeats, this time with an undercurrent of worry in her tone.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles against her neck, his arms tightening around her. “I don’t want you to die, Mom.”

She wonders if she should be appalled that her immediate thought is that of Emma. In the last year, he has shown little regard for her or her life and it is only with the arrival of his biological mother that he has improved. If not for Emma scaring the life out of him, she doubts he would ever have apologized and therefore, she doubts his sincerity now.

Of course, if not for Emma, then they wouldn’t be here. Perhaps she might have found some other way to redeem herself in his eyes, or maybe he would still look at her as though there is no one in the world he could possibly loathe more.

Who knows?

More importantly, to take a page from Michael’s book; who cares?

Her son is in her arms and there is no comfort greater for a mother than that of her child.

“I won’t,” she promises, catching Emma’s nod of agreement from the corner of her eye, and smiling to herself. His sincerity may be in question, but Emma’s ability to protect her and ensure she keeps her promise is the one thing in life she can put her absolute faith in.

* * *

 

Emma doesn’t yearn. Technically, it is something beyond her thanks to her state of being, but she remembers what it was like; that dull ache somewhere in the middle of her chest. There had always been a hollowness in the pit of her stomach that accompanied the feeling, knowledge that what she yearned for would forever be out of her reach for one reason or another.

Watching Regina from the door to the room Henry had claimed for himself, she is reminded of Storybrooke and the mansion fit for a Queen, and finds herself nostalgic for those nights in which she had to sneak out before dawn. She hated leaving Regina, but knowing she would return come nightfall, imagining what they would do together when that time came; it was amazing how quickly her mood brightened with the thoughts.

Witnessing Regina lean over Henry and kiss his forehead before wishing him good night, she pictures that exact moment in the past, replacing the image of Henry as he is now with those she’d spotted in passing picture frames that lined the walls of their home.

Her smile isn’t forced when Regina turns to her, and she sees the realization in chestnut eyes as her smile is returned, plump lips quirking with little hesitation. Regina moves toward her and grabs her by the hand, pulling her into the hall. She barely manages to offer Henry a good night of her own before the door closes and Regina has her pressed up against the wall beside it.

“What are you up to, Miss Swan?”

Emma stares at her, trying to decide if there is a way she can get out of answering the question while, at the same time, not pissing off the still fairly-newly awakened vampire she happens to be in love with. She knows she'll have to bring it up sooner or later, but she'd really been hoping for later, as she has yet to figure out a way to explain Henry's importance to Regina without implying he wasn't important to begin with.

Clearing her throat, Emma places her hands on hips and ignores the look of surprise when she lifts Regina off to the side so she can step away from the wall. She grabs her hand and leads her down the corridor, opening and closing a number of doors before she finds the room she's looking for and guides her inside.

The first rule to keeping a nightwalker calm, aside from doing your best not to piss them off to begin with, is atmosphere—somewhere they can relax and be alone when the mood strikes them. Regina likes nature and often spoke of her time as Queen, how she liked to sit out in her garden when she had nothing better to do, caring for the tree her father gifted her as a child. Emma also recalls the garden she'd boasted back in Storybrooke, and the greenhouse seems the perfect place for lack of anywhere else.

She supposes she could take her down the mountain, but she doubts Regina will remain complacent long enough for that.

"Emma?"

Case and point.

Emma takes a breath, releasing her hand as she turns toward her. She gestures to the bench along the wall and, eyes narrowed in suspicion, Regina sits. "You told me once your magic stems from anger…"

"What—" Emma raises her hand and Regina sighs. "Yes."

Emma nods. "Our powers are kind of like that," she explains, knee twitching with the sudden desire she has to pace. She resists. "Like your magic, my own stems from anger—most Nightwalkers' do because for the most part, that's the only thing we feel and it's easiest. Yours… doesn't."

Regina frowns, lips parting before Emma glares and she purses them. "For you, anger is somewhat akin to trying to activate a light with two switches; sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't and other times—the bulb explodes."

"That metaphor is atrocious."

Emma chuckles and inclines her head. She knows it was bad but all the other comparisons she came up with were worse, much worse. "But you get my point…"

With a roll of her eyes, Regina nods and Emma offers a small smile before she continues her explanation. "Because you have to rely on your anger for your magic to work, you need something else otherwise your control will be—well." Regina sighs again, which Emma takes to mean _get on with it._ "Love. You still feel it, don't you?"

"Despite your assertions to the contrary." Emma flinches at the bite in her tone and Regina closes her eyes, huffing as she leans back against the wall. "Yes, Emma, I still feel… everything."

Sucking in her lower lip, Emma moves and takes a seat beside her. She places a hand on her knee and sighs, relieved, when Regina doesn't slap it away. "As far as the story goes—the original that was told after the fact, not the one you told me—Evangeline died in a house fire. When they investigated her death, the lack of accelerants found in or around the house led them to assume the fire was started with magic and, at the time, witchcraft was forbidden. What the story doesn't tell you is that Alessa didn't know she had magic, and only after discovering her son's body and confronting Evangeline, who admitted to killing him when Alessa charmed her, did she figure it out."

Ending the story, Emma removes her hand and waits, clasping it in her other as Regina's eyes flutter open and she turns to look at her. Her brow furrows in thought, mouth still pursed but in the seconds that pass, a myriad of expressions contort her features.

"Are you telling me she wasn't angry confronting Evangeline? She set her on fire."

Emma shakes her head. "She was angry," she concedes with a sigh. "If she wasn't, she'd never have been able to charm her and force a confession, but by then she'd been a nightwalker for almost a century. She was _hurt_. Her son was the only person in the world she was capable of loving, and she lost him."

"And you think I'm… the opposite? That I need to be hurt to use my powers?"

"No," Emma growls, hand raised once more as Regina scowls. She pinches the bridge of her nose and admits, "I'm not explaining this right, I know. It wasn't about the pain, it was the driving emotion _behind_ the pain. She loved him. Her magic surfaced through her love for him. If I'm right, then it will be your love for… for Henry that will help you."

Regina frowns, head shaking. "I used the Voice on _you_ , dear." Emma's head snaps to the side, eyes wide. Regina smiles softly. "I didn't know until your father told me, but if you _are_ correct, then I highly doubt it was my love for Henry. Considering I attacked Snow for what she did to _you_ , I'd assume my feelings for you are far more likely the culprit."


	30. Chapter 30

Looking down at her hand, Regina studies the ring on her finger while voices drone on in the background around her. She accepted Red's offer to weaken herself and now, like Emma, she is able to walk about during the daytime without fear of bursting into flames because she'd failed to watch where she was going.

She can feel the eyes on her—scrutinizing, judging. If not for Henry seated beside her, she'd give considerably more thought to crossing the room and ringing Charming's thick, stupid neck. It has been less than a day since he appeared with his small group of loyalists, and she's already lost count of how many times she's imagined herself strangling him while combing the fingers of her other hand through Emma's hair.

Stuck in their present company, it is the only thing she's found capable of soothing her and Emma seems content to be used in such a way as she tries to resist her own urges. Regina smiles, entertained by the thought that perhaps Emma shares her particular desire. Given her reaction upon first meeting Charming, it wouldn't surprise her in the least.

She understands now, how difficult it had been for Emma to contain herself while in his presence and, although knowing part of the reason at the time, why Emma refused to bring him with them. It does surprise her that Emma finds Snow more tolerable, not because of _her_ past with the woman, but because from what little she remembers of Charming, he is much more like Emma than either of them realize.

Still, she isn't about to encourage either of them to try and get passed their difference. She despises both Snow and Charming, and if Emma happens to share her distaste for the two imbeciles, then all the better for her and the plans slowly forming in the back of her mind.

The peace won't last; she has known this since the day they appeared within the Enchanted Forest and Snow tried to have her arrested. She continues to find the thought as amusing now as she had at the time. The nerve the woman possessed after twenty eight years of being nothing more than a meager little schoolteacher afraid of her own shadow, after giving Henry that book and filling his head with nonsense.

If he weren't already so attached to his grandparents— she sneers as the word enters her head —she would simply put herself out of her misery and kill the both them right now.

Alas, Emma wasn't _entirely_ wrong about her assumptions in regards to what she feels. While her love for Emma is certainly enough to give her the strength she needs to control her newfound powers, her love for Henry causes her second thoughts when it comes to giving in to her darker side.

Like the Evil Queen, around her son, _her_ monster is muted—collared. It grates on her nerves as much as it relieves her. The Evil Queen had been a necessity, borne out of a desire to protect herself and finally take control of her own life. She is not needed here, and neither is the monster.

Not now.

Not _yet_.

Returning to the present upon sensing a change in the air, Regina turns her head in time to watch as Snow and Charming approach the three of them. Her lip curls when Emma stiffens beneath her hand and she drags her eyes back to the blonde head in her lap, surprised to find Emma had lain back at some point and closed her eyes.

Freeing the hand in her hair, Regina strokes the crease of her forehead and emerald eyes flutter open. She can see everything in those eyes; thoughts, words, feelings—or echoes, whatever Emma wants to call them—and she smiles softly, turning to their son and brushing his cheek with the back of her hand before she and Emma vanish.

"Jesus!" Michael stumbles back, having almost walked straight into them when they reappear on the floor of his cave. Emma and Regina both chuckle at his reaction and he scowls, throwing something that hits Regina's shoulder. "A little warning, woman."

Regina glances down and her brow rises, incredulous as she returns her gaze to him. "You threw a sock at me."

"Give me notice and next time I'll make sure it's something more worthy of you, your Majesty," he mocks, huffing when all she does is smirk at him in reply. "What are you doing here?"

"Avoiding the idiots," she states with a sniff, instantly regretting her chosen form of disdain as an overwhelming scent fills her nose. "For the love of—if that is your sock, I'm going to force you to eat it."

A chuckle draws her attention to behind the wolf and she looks passed him to see Graham stood at the entrance of the cave. She smiles at the sight of him, having wondered where he was staying. All three of the werewolves had refused to remain in the castle after the first night. She should have known he'd be with Michael.

"He was getting a little ripe," Graham explains, inclining his head towards Michael, and dodging the responding fist to his shoulder as he grins at Regina. "Trust me, wet dog is far more preferable."

Regina wrinkles her nose, not at all convinced but then, she supposes, she isn't the one who has to sleep next to him. "Fair enough," she concedes with a grin of her own. "I hope you don't mind us suddenly dropping in on you both."

He shakes his head. "Of course not. Michael and I were about to start dinner." Emma huffs and sits up, smoothing a hand through her hair before she stands and leaves the cave. Regina frowns after her. "Did I say something wrong?"

"I… don't know?"

"Too many people," Michael offers, dropping down beside her. Regina blinks at him, confused. There were only three other people, but Michael seems to sense her next words, and chuckles. "She's been surrounded by people for… how long now? It's been a month at least. She isn't used to it."

Regina nods slowly, not entirely certain she understands. Emma's never mentioned wanting to be alone, but then again, Emma rarely says anything when something is bothering her. It would be frustrating, if Regina wasn't the exact same way.

"What do you suggest?"

He shrugs. "Let her wander for a bit, she'll come back."

* * *

 

Emma runs. Not far, and not particularly fast considering what she is, but it is far enough to sate her need to escape and when she stops, the twitching of her knee has subsided. She thought she was done with this, done with running—with letting things build up to the point she _needs_ to run because she'd otherwise combust if she didn't.

Sometimes, when it all gets to be a bit too much, her anger will surface out of nowhere. She has been stuck in close proximity to all these people for weeks now, with no breathing room to speak of. Regina, Michael, even Henry she can deal with but the others—it's too much. She wants peace, quiet, and a place to _be_ without this air of expectation hanging over her head.

Now that Henry is back and Maleficent has been dealt with, it is as though people want something more from her, and she has almost no desire to give it to them. Regina wants a teacher, Henry still wants another mother, Snow and Charming want some kind of relationship she _really_ has no interest in. Her brother—well, she hasn't the slightest clue about what he wants.

Their family back together, maybe? She supposes she can give him that. She missed him, missed Victor. She can see herself being a part of that again. Not here though. Not surrounded by people she has absolutely no interest in getting to know.

Teaching Regina and even _trying_ for Henry, she'll concede to because she wants to help them, wants the three of them to be together for as long as possible, but her so-called parents? The quicker she is away from them and their _subjects_ , the better.

The second Charming appeared at the top of the mountain, all her memories came rushing back of the things he'd said—of all the looks people sent their way, the mutters no one thought she'd hear. He should've stayed where they'd left him, or better yet, gone further in the opposite direction but instead, there he was.

Here _they_ are, and here the monster inside of her is becoming restless. Maleficent's blood should have sustained her for a while, but with the new arrivals, the thrill of that kill is starting to wear off and if she doesn't find something to distract her _soon_ , she may just let loose on all those deserving bodies trapped within the castle with nowhere else to go.

* * *

 

Tilting the cup back and forth in her hand, Regina watches the blood slosh against the sides as she runs her tongue along her teeth. "It isn't _that_ bad," she concedes, looking up at Michael who grins. "A little thicker and less satisfying, maybe."

"Emma hates it," he reiterates what he'd said at least five times by now and she nods. It wouldn't be her first choice, but if she was starving and there were no alternatives; pig's blood would do in a pinch. "She has a refined palate."

Michael snorts. "You only say that because she prefers yours."

"Your point?" she drawls, grin widening as he shakes his head at her. Emma has taste, Regina can hardly fault her for that. "So, how are my two favourite men settling into their new lives?"

Michael and Graham share a look before Michael turns to her, brow raised. " _I'm_ one of your favourite men?" He laughs before teasing, "You're right; Emma has taste. You, on the other hand…"

Regina plucks the sock still beside her from the ground and throws it, hitting him straight in the forehead. "I'll have you know, I have exquisite taste, thank you very much."

"Aww shucks," he drawls, a hand to his chest, feigning overwhelmed. "I'm touched."

"In the head," she mutters, still grinning as she takes another sip, and sighs.

"We were actually wondering something," Graham says, drawing her thoughts back from where they were headed as her eyes flicker across to him, curiosity in her gaze.  "Are we staying here, or do you and Emma have plans?"

Regina frowns. She considers telling him she has exactly zero intention of remaining here, or anywhere near the two idiots in fact but—honestly, what little plans she does have, she hadn't thought to include anyone other than Emma and Henry. "Is there any particular reason you're asking?"

"Well…" Graham pauses, frowning. Michael smiles and pats him on the arm before taking over.

"We were hoping we could come with you," he explains with a shrug. "That is assuming you both want to leave. Victor, Red and Richard are on board with whatever you two decide."

"Was Henry right?" she questions, beyond amused with their hopeful stares. "Have I suddenly gained my very own pack?"

Michael grins, head shaking. "You're a nightwalker now," he explains. "We wolves will be loyal, but I'm afraid unless you intend to fight Emma to the death, you'll have to learn to share."

Regina tilts her head. Not only does her own pack appeal to her, the thought of sharing it with Emma is in no way unappealing. The two of them, side by side—Queens in their own right. This just keeps getting better and better. She smirks. "I think I can live with that."

Emma comes sauntering into the cave as soon as she finishes speaking, and Regina surges to her feet. "Live with what?"

"Emma, what—" Regina swallows, words lost as she gestures to the blood splatter adorning Emma's clothes.

With a questioning look, Emma glances down, and laughs. "Whoops." She looks back up and requests, "A little help?"

Regina gestures again, this time with magic, and Emma transforms before their very eyes; fresh and clean in her usual silk shirt—dark red, of course—and tight, black jeans. Emma thanks her with a lopsided grin. "Did you know there are actual imps in this forest? Little—well, _dead_ little assholes now, but assholes all the same."

"Told you she'd be back," Michael pipes up but before Regina can respond, there's a commotion from outside the cave and all their heads turn to the sound as Red appears.

"Whale's dead."

* * *

 

Emma circles the corpse at her feet, avoiding Regina's accusing stare across from her. She can certainly understand _why_ Regina thinks it her doing. She did appear to her only moments ago, covered in blood after all but, no. Whoever this man is—Whale? She remembers him, vaguely, from the fire all those weeks ago when she'd listened to everyone complaining about Regina not being locked up for her crimes, and she does recall a story or two in which Regina mentioned his meddling hands in her life but she'd never met the man, let alone bothered to dwell on him enough to consider him worth the effort.

Regina is more than capable of handling her own problems. Besides, the man was drained of all his blood and surely, Regina doesn't honestly think she'd stomach all that in the name of—what? Petty revenge?

"His heart has been ripped from his chest," Charming speaks above the numerous voices around the room. "I think we all know the one responsible for this."

Emma bares her teeth, part humour, and part malice as her head jerks up to meet his stare. If only he could hear Regina's thoughts, accusing her of the very same thing. "I _think_ ," she growls, "the only thing _you_ know is how to shoot off your mouth. You can just as easily blame me, as you can her."

"She's the Evil—"

"Shut," Emma snaps, "up." She points her finger at him as his mouth gapes. "You don't know shit. Ask your precious wife to show you Maleficent's body, then come back here and tell me, with absolute conviction, it was her because until you've seen what _I_ am capable of, I'd keep my mouth shut."

Her head whips around upon sensing Regina coming to stand beside her and Regina smiles, affection in her gaze as she captures her hand and squeezes. Emma sighs and brings both their hands to her mouth, softly kissing her knuckles before returning her attention to the small group.

" _I_ think," she begins, shooting Charming a glare. "We can all agree this was done by someone like us, and since I'm certain it wasn't me or Regina, that means we have a problem."

There are some murmurs of agreement, while others have questions. Emma ignores them all and raises her voice. "If _someone_ would like to take his head out of his ass for a second, perhaps he might like to consider coming up with a way to ensure this doesn't happen again while Regina and I figure out who, besides the two of us, would like to kill any of you."

The responding silence is loud, the threat hanging in the air for a few seconds before Emma flashes them a smile filled with hostility. "Off you go," she says, " _Peasants_."

With muttered grumbles and expressions of contempt, everyone leaves the room, single file. A few throw glances over their shoulder before they quickly face forward— a shudder here, a shake of the head there as Emma answers their disdain with her continued smile.

As the last of those whose names she doesn't care enough to learn skulk from the room, she forces her eyes to the two who remain behind, and her upper lip curls. "Are you both hard of hearing, or is Regina correct in her, often vivid, assertions about your lack of brain cells combined?"

Regina leans into her, body shaking and Emma glances at her from the corner of an eye, biting her lip when she realizes Regina is trying hard not to laugh. She releases a breath of amusement from her nose, lips pursed as Snow and Charming take a step towards them.

How these two, beyond daft human beings, are her parents; she hasn't the faintest clue. "Well?"

"I can't speak for your mo—" Charming starts, only to cut himself off when Emma snorts.

"If you're about to give me your version of the _respect your parents_ speech, you should turn around right now and take your dumbass away from me before I lose my temper."

His face contorts in anger and Emma thinks _finally_. The constipated look of hope he's worn since arriving was starting to nauseate her. His mouth opens but she beats him to it. "You're not my father," she tells him. "You're nothing more than a sperm donor, and your wife? 9 months of accommodation. You chose not to keep me—not to raise me. You don't get to choose to be my parents now."

Shock paints his face and when her eyes cut to Snow, Emma can see the disappointed, but resigned look in her eyes, and nods. "If this," she says, gesturing to the man on the floor, "is because of us, we'll figure it out but after that? Regina and I are leaving, with our son, and if either of you try to stop us, I'll gladly rip your throats out with my teeth."

Snow bows her head and steps forward, placing a hand on her husband's shoulder. "Come on, Charming."

"Now wait—"

" _David_ ," Snow snaps and he spins, eyes wide. "It is her decision, and we will respect it."

"But—" Snow rolls her eyes and yanks him forward, turning as she pushes him towards the door and doesn't stop until she crosses the threshold.

"Let us know if either of you need anything," she says when she reaches back, a sad smile thrown over the shoulder before she pulls the door shut behind them.

"Well that was—"

"Marvelous," a voice interrupts, the accent smooth—rich, and just a hint deeper than Regina's own. "Just marvelous."

Emma stiffens and Regina jerks around, fireball in hand. "Who the hell—" she hisses, trailing off with a gasp as Emma turns and drops to her knees, a single word falling from her lips.

"Mother."

 


	31. Chapter 31

As soon as Emma's knee touches the floor, she rises swiftly and her jaw clenches. She isn't a puppet anymore. She no longer kowtows to the Elders, and that means her respect needs to be earned before she gives it. Alessa might be considered the Mother of Nightwalkers but to Emma, she is merely another centuries old vampire, trapped in the body of a young woman. Emma is an accident—a by product, proof that even with all of their rules and regulations, their secret society is just as flawed as every other. She will not bow just because it is written that she must.

"I was concerned for a moment there," Regina comments. Emma turns to her, gaze questioning. "Have you found another Queen?"

Emma dips her head forward, chin touching her chest as a smile touches her lips. She turns, prompt on her heel and faces Regina before dropping, once more, to her knees. "Never."

Regina chuckles softly and reaches down, fingers gliding across a chiseled jaw. Emma looks up at her, relieved to find the smile that paints crimson lips as she gives in to the slight pressure beneath her chin and stands. She turns back to Alessa, grasping the hand that caresses down her arm as she speaks. "You look well."

Alessa steps forward with a hum. "I too was concerned," she admits with a glance to Regina. "The child I remember would have sooner attacked me, than dropped to her knees."

_Bat swinging at her side, Emma jogged up the path to the front door, only to freeze as the door swung wide and a woman stepped out on to the porch._

_"Who are you?" she demanded with all the impetuousness of a pre-teen whose only thought was of a father who worked too much, and a brother who liked to wander the forests behind their house after school. No one would be home for hours yet. "What do you want?"_

_The woman looked surprised by her presence but as Emma raised the bat in her hands, a smile stretched across the woman's face. "Dear child, I am a friend, calm yourself."_

_"Why were you in there?" Emma questioned, eyes widening as the woman moved closer. Her voice rose in pitch. "What were you doing?"_

_"So inquisitive," the woman chuckled. Emma flinched as a hand touched her cheek, bat held high above her head. "Lower your weapon, sweet thing, and I will answer all your questions and more."_

Emma blinks, forcing her mind back from the memory. She had trusted her instantly. She remembers lowering the bat and letting the woman guide her towards the stairs where they talked for hours—minutes?

Emma shakes her head. There was no concept of time, just the silken sound of that voice in her ears as the woman kept her word and told her everything. It wasn't until she was changed, staring into the eyes of an Elder who wanted her as an underling, in more ways than one, that she realized she'd been compelled. She became pliant, a captive audience of one for a woman who missed her family and risked what little life she had left to see them again.

"I grew up," she replies, looking away and straight into curious chestnut eyes that study her silently. She sighs but offers Regina a reassuring smile, a promise passing between them.

She supposes it was only a matter of time before that particular story was unraveled, though she thinks it would've been nice if it were further down the line. Maybe when she was 500, living somewhere far away where she would have ample warning of her father's impending visit to kick her ass once he found out she'd kept Alessa's visit a secret.

Everyone thought Alessa dead, and presumably only Victor and Michael knew the truth, but Emma had been the only one to see her since she went missing; twelve years old and thoroughly _enthralled_ by this strange woman who spoke of such love for the ones who'd adopted her. As absurd as she believes the notion now, her twelve year old self would've sworn there was even love in those piercing blue eyes for her.

She rolls her eyes at her younger self. At that age, she'd believed a multitude of things that, as she got older, life had been all too happy to shatter and reveal them for the lies they were; no one wanted her, love was fleeting and the only family that mattered was the one she chose for herself.

Brushing those thoughts aside, she registers the tense silence and wonders what she's missed as she looks between the two women who stare each other down. Her eyes narrow and she shifts on her feet, wanting to protect, to pull Regina behind her but aware that Regina won't thank her for it. She breathes an inaudible sigh when the movement is enough, drawing the scrutiny from her lover.

"You found your mate," Alessa states, a hint of something— accusation, perhaps— in her voice. "A recent addition to our little family, if I'm not mistaken."

Emma holds her gaze. "If you're about to chide me for turning someone, you can save your breath," she says. "I no longer pander to the Council."

Alessa chuckles, dismissing the words with a wave of her hand. "Have you forgotten my tale so soon, child? I am an outcast—fhealltóir to our kind. I come not to punish you, but for my husband… and my son."

At that, Regina opens her mouth to speak but pauses when Emma tightens the grip on her hand. Michael is another story, one she knows well enough to recite for her when they are alone. "And him?" she questions, gesturing to the corpse the three were content to ignore until now.

Surprising them both, Alessa sighs and takes a knee beside the body, pointing to numerous areas on his neck as she says, "This was not my doing, child."

Emma frowns, following the tip of a finger and noting, for the first time, the faint scarring of teeth too varied in number and size to be the work of a single nightwalker. The fact they weren't healed means Whale had been dead before he was drained, which also explains the missing heart.

"How many?" she murmurs, a sense of dread overcoming her. She and Regina were the only ones meant to be here, but she has a feeling she already knows the answer.

"Five by the marks," Alessa replies, head slightly back as she meets her gaze and confirms her suspicions. "Six, if you count the heart."

Emma sighs, closing her eyes as she lifts her free hand and rubs the bridge of her nose. This is bad, she thinks, and then repeats the thought out loud to an amused sounding hum of agreement. She opens her eyes as Alessa rises and asks, "Is this why you're here?"

"I have already told you why I am here." Emma glares and Alessa concedes with a sigh. "Yes, I sensed them but by the time I made it here, you were already hissing at that ignoramus of a man."

"Oh I like her," Regina purrs and Emma has to bite her lip to stifle a laugh because _of course_ she does.

* * *

Regina watches with ill contained amusement as Victor and Michael both studiously ignore the woman across from them. Part of her feels sorry for Alessa and wants to reach out, knowing all too well the pain of having a loved one so close but still so far. Another part of her—a deeper, much darker part thinks the cold shoulder father and son offer are the least of what she deserves for having abandoned them.

The mother in her wants to comfort, while the Queen relishes the fact that for once in her life, _she_ isn't the one suffering but combined, and added to that the bonus of Emma too ignoring Snow and Charming, all she really wants to do is throw her head back and laugh at the absurdity of it all. She had cursed an entire realm in the hope she could finally be happy while everyone else was miserable, but it wasn't until the curse broke and she literally almost died before everything she's ever dreamed of was dumped in her lap.

It is all a little too much and so she merely sits; her lover on one side and their son on the other, a barely concealed smirk on her lips as she looks around the room, soaking in the depressive air threatening to suffocate them all beneath its weight.

After a while, when the silence continues to stretch out before them with no end in sight, she places a hand on the one that has slowly been stoking the fire in her veins for the better part of an hour and raises it to her mouth. Her smirk widens upon catching the glares Charming and Snow send her way, lips soft against knuckles that flex appreciatively under her attentions.

"Come," she says, rejecting the sudden desire she has to further torment the woman's would-be parents as she stands. "You and I are due a discussion, I think."

Emma nods, rising without a word of protest before she wanders over to Victor and bends down, whispering something in his ear. He smiles and inclines his head before Emma returns, fixing their son with a pointed stare. "Your mother and I need to talk," she says. "It is too dangerous for you to wander about, so stay close to Victor and Michael while we're gone."

His face screws up in what Regina knows signals the approach of an argument and she takes his chin in hand before he can open his mouth. "You disobeyed her once," she reminds him, the unspoken _look what happened_ clear in her tone.

His throat bobs and he averts his gaze, lips pursed as he gives a subtle nod of his head. Regina releases him, wondering if perhaps she's being too hard on him before she remembers the distinct sound of Emma's body hitting the floor, and the blood pooling in her hand as she stared down at the sword protruding from her stomach.

Her upper lip twitches and she brushes off the thought. If anything, she hasn't been hard enough on him, recently or in the past. His unwillingness to _listen_ had already almost cost her everything and she was done giving him, or anyone else, that power over her.

"Be good," she commands and grabs for Emma's hand, entwining their fingers as she pulls her from the room and out into the hall. "You've met."

Emma doesn't hesitate in her response. "Once," she admits, tugging on her hand. Regina slows enough for them to fall in to step and Emma continues. "I caught her sneaking out of our house when I was twelve and threatened her with a baseball bat."

"No one else knows," Emma interrupts her next question. "As far as anyone knows, she's been missing this whole time and she made me promise not to tell Victor or Michael that I saw her. She told me that night who she was, and that she visits them from time to time but they couldn't know because it would put them in danger. I believed her, so I never told anyone."

"And now?" she prompts, having sensed the faint hostility between the two women.

Emma smiles lightly. "I learned later on that she used her powers on me. I thought I was over it after all this time— I mean I _was_ brandishing a baseball bat at her —but I guess I was wrong."

Regina nods. She better than anyone can understand a grudge, regardless of reason. After all these years, she still harbors an insane number of her own, some of which no longer even make sense. Sense or not, however, she doubts those grudges will fade any time soon as death can, she has discovered, only bandage so much of the past.

Slowing further, she sighs and rests her head on a shoulder. "And Michael? I thought with what we are, we couldn't conceive but—" Emma suddenly laughs and Regina lifts her head, confusion staining her brow.

"I _knew_ you were going to ask about that."

Regina scoffs. "Well I _tried_ to ask her," she counters and Emma's smile widens as she squeezes her hand.

"I know," Emma confesses and kisses her cheek. "And I told myself I could tell you all about it but…"

"You can't," Regina guesses, her tone dejected. She has come to see Emma as a sort of tutor for all things supernatural, and she'd hoped to learn something new.

"No," Emma denies. "I can, it's just—I don't know the _exact_ details okay, so bear with me?"

Regina nods, mood instantly brightening and Emma laughs again. "God you're cute." Regina scowls, and Emma hastens to add, "But totally frightening; scary, Evil Queen, my life feels doomed fright—" With a roll of her eyes, Regina smacks her stomach with the palm of her hand and Emma falls silent with a grin.

They walk for another few minutes while Emma sifts through her thoughts, likely trying to come up with a way to best explain. After the abysmal time she spent talking to Regina about her powers and what supposedly drives her, Emma has taken to considering her words before speaking them, and it is a habit Regina has begun to appreciate. As much as she loves listening to Emma talk, having to translate the things she says into something even remotely resembling sense is exhausting.

Emma snaps her fingers and exclaims, "Blood brothers."

Regina groans. Alright, so maybe Emma _wasn't_ considering her words.

Emma protests, "I was trying to think of something similar to what the… ritual, I guess, entails. It's not, not simple." Regina groans again, but Emma laughs. "You said you'd bear with me."

"I changed my mind," she teases. "You are a useless individual, Emma Swan." Regina peers at her from the corner of her eye, and stills at her expression. "What?"

Emma shrugs, the corners of her mouth lifting until Regina can see the sharp points of her teeth. "You've kept your teasing to a minimum these past few days. I missed it."

Understanding, Regina smiles and leans in, capturing her lips. She sighs into her mouth as Emma turns into her, arms sliding around her waist and pulling her close. It has been a while, she realizes, parting her lips in welcome of the tongue that slithers between them.

When she feels the hands on her backside, she pulls back with a deep, throaty chuckle. "Later," she scolds playfully. "You owe me an answer, lest you've forgotten."

"Alright alright," Emma relents, still grinning as she pecks her on the lips.

Regina hums and then lightly slaps her cheek in mock indignation. "Explain," she demands, hand sliding to the crook of her neck before slipping around and gliding up into hair that she tugs playfully.

Emma softens, smiling as she brings their heads together. "Okay, first off it isn't biological…" Regina nods at her pause and she continues. "So each pack is assigned to a coven and when the pack expands via childbirth, a ritual is performed to tie the new pack member to the Mistress of the coven. If, for whatever reason, the Mistress connects with the child, she can choose to—adopt them, for lack of a better word."

Frowning, Regina searches her face to see if Emma is messing with her and when all she finds is a resigned sort of truth in those eyes, she feels the outrage bubbling up inside of her. "What of their mother?"

"How much do you know about werewolves and childbirth?" Her frown deepens and Emma leans back, cupping her cheek and smoothing her brow with the pad of a thumb as she says, "When a werewolf gives birth, she has to transform. She doesn't bear _children_ , she bears pups—a whole litter of them."

Regina gasps and Emma nods. "But the transition…"

"Is different if you're turned," Emma explains as she steps back and takes her hand, leading her further down the hall towards their room. "For natural werewolves, their first is from wolf to human."

With Emma teaching her about this new world she's living in, Regina has found her curiosity at an all time high over the last few days. She remembers the conversation the morning of their search for Henry and the things Victor had shared with her, and she can no longer ignore the question that always pops into her head whenever the memory surfaces.

"Will you tell me what happened to Corvin?"

She doesn't know what to expect from Emma, but when all she says is, "You know about him," it takes Regina a moment to absorb the words before she replies.

"Your father and I… bonded that first morning while you were asleep."

Emma shoots her a small smile before she launches into an explanation. "Michael and Corvin were half-brothers; different mother, same father. His was a reverse transition—human to wolf. He… didn't survive his."

"Victor said as much." Regina winces at the lack of sympathy in her tone and quickly adds, "I understand if you don't want to talk about it."

Emma waves it off but there is at least a minute of silence before she speaks, and when she does, it is with an indifference Regina has never heard before. "Our bodies aren't really meant to bend and break the way they need to during the transformation. Most of the time, they heal too quickly to cause any lasting damage but sometimes a bone breaks too soon or grows too fast..."

Regina hates it.

She hates her curiosity, hates how Emma's voice becomes more detached with every word until she sounds as though she's a doctor reciting facts from a clipboard.

Hates how Emma's hand rises to rub against her chest.

Hates that she pushes because knowing feels like a _need_ even though she knows she is simply being _selfish_.

"And in Corvin's case?"

"His rib cage collapsed and punctured both lungs," Emma says. Her voice is dead, dead _dead_ and Regina wonders if Emma even realizes because when she finally finds the words to offer an apology for prying, Emma flashes a smile so pained, she swears she feels her heart _ache_ at the sight of it.

"Why?" Emma questions. "He was one of the lucky ones."


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had, and still have, a migraine which is why this took as long as it did. Just a heads up that I haven't burned myself out yet.

Emma has found something else to hate as she sits in the almost deafening silence, staring down into her cup, no more than a finger of wine left at the bottom. They'd walked all the way back to their room where Regina led her to the balcony and conjured their drinks, demanding she sit when she tried to pace her frustration away. She isn't _glad_ Corvin is dead, as Regina's continued silence seems to suggest is what she _thinks_ she meant.

He was 15 when he died. He didn't deserve to die. He _shouldn't_ be dead, but there's nothing Emma can do about it. Not then, and not now. She didn't find out about him until after she'd turned, and by then anything she might have felt was minute— fleeting. It's no secret among her family that she hadn't been his biggest fan, but wanting him dead?

No. She simply thought he was fortunate to die before he was pulled into all the politics and power struggles involved in their lives. Hell, there was a good chance that even if he hadn't died during the transition, he'd have died sooner rather than later. Not only was he the youngest son of the Alpha and the most likely to be groomed to take over from his father, but after centuries of hiding and isolating themselves from the rest of the world, the Covens weren't the only ones growing impatient. She was honestly surprised war hadn't broken out across the globe before she turned her back on the only life she'd had these last 9 years.

Emma sighs and tips her head back, bringing the cup to her lips and finishing off the rest of her wine. She'd probably miss him if she could, pain in her ass or not. Maybe if he was still around, his obnoxious personality would've grown on her and she'd be less reactive now—less prone to wanting to grab Charming by the head and just _squeeze_ until his head popped.

Shaking her head, Emma stands and tosses the cup over the balcony before she turns to face Regina. "I didn't like him," she admits. "I can't tell you how many times I wanted to beat the shit out of him but he was my brother. I loved him. I was by no means the only person who couldn't stand him, so I even protected him on occasion."

Running a hand through her hair, she says, "He didn't deserve to die, no matter how annoying he was, and I will miss him but I won't take back what I said. We are _cursed_ , Regina; no one should have to live like this."

Regina lifts her chin from her chest, blinking up at her in surprise. "You would give all of this up for mortality?"

"No," Emma replies a little too quickly. She's thought about it. Who wouldn't? Her voice hardens and she repeats, "No, I hate what I am but I _accept_ it. If life has taught me anything, it's that strength has a purpose. I am more powerful now than I ever would have been as a human. I can do things I never would've dreamed of doing when I was a kid, but this— this _life_ isn't for everyone. Corvin is in a better place, wherever that happens to be. I have to believe that."

Regina looks at her, searches her. "Why?"

"Because…" Emma sighs again. "…barring any unexpected tragedies and assuming we survive what is about to happen, we will live for centuries. We can't afford to dwell on one death when we will live through hundreds, if not thousands, more."

The hitch of a breath confirms what she'd assumed earlier that afternoon and Emma drops her gaze as she returns to her seat. She has had all these years to absorb this life and everything it entails. This is something she should have mentioned sooner, a lesson that is ingrained into fledglings from the very start. If you grow attached to anyone— human, werewolf, nightwalker —then they become instrumental in retaining what little remains of ones humanity and once you lose those last pieces of yourself, the monster becomes who you are.

With Regina, Emma is safe because if either of them die, the other will follow but the others? If Emma loses Victor or Michael then each death will chip away at her until there is nothing left, and the same goes for Regina. Emma can loathe Henry as much as she wants, but in keeping Regina safe from herself and anyone else, she has no choice but to tolerate him.

"When Damien died, Alessa began giving in to the monster more often," she starts to explain. "Everyone was after her; the Sheriffs, bandits, other magic-users. She began killing people left and right, until eventually most everyone wanted her dead. It took years, but eventually she figured out how to create a portal between worlds and when she stepped through to the other side, she landed in Ireland right in the middle of war where she killed hundreds—maybe more."

"It was the year 1316," came another voice. Emma and Regina twist to find its owner as Alessa emerges from their room with a smirk. "During the great Battle of Faughart in which an army comprised of Scottish veterans and Irish infantry tried to overthrow Anglo-Norman rule, a strange woman dressed in rags and covered in blood emerged from a glowing rip in the mountainside…"

Alessa chuckles at their twin expressions, cross between amused and annoyed that someone would dare intrude on their time together. "I'm surprised they still tell that story," she muses aloud. "I thought they would have erased my very existence after what I did to them."

"Did you grow tired of trying to gain your husband and son's sympathy with guilt-stricken looks, dear?"

Emma whips her head around, eyes wide as they land on Regina. She is just as irritated by their unwelcome guest, but Regina must have lost her mind to actually _mock_ her. Can she not feel the power radiating from Alessa, or has she simply chosen to ignore it? And if so, _why_? For someone who seems to like this new life, Regina appears to have some sort of death wish.

Alessa snorts. "They may be wolves, but they are also men," she replies, a finger twirling through the air. "Easily swayed and even easier to please, as I am certain you know all too well."

"True," Regina concedes, laughing softly as her face softens into something a lot less hostile.

Emma glances between the two not once but three times, baffled by their back and forth, before she decides to give up. She shakes her head and ignores the fact they are both grinning at her as she leans back and closes her eyes to them, a faint smile coming unbidden to her lips when she feels the hand pat, and then settle on her thigh.

As fingers curl against her leg and a head rests upon her shoulder, it occurs to her that this resembles the burgeoning relationship between Regina and Michael. While neither friends nor enemies at first, Regina had teased him relentlessly once she was comfortable being in the same room for more than a few minutes at a time.

Emma supposes there are worse things than Regina befriending the woman who might have been her foster mother once upon a time. She would have to keep an eye on them to ensure Regina doesn't become attached to yet another person, but for now, if this is a prelude to what they will be like together, then it is at least preferable to the borderline volatile relationship she shares with her supposed parents.

"I came to warn you both." Emma's eyes snap open, an instant scowl on her face. Alessa ignores her and continues, "Your—what did you call them? Sperm donor and 9 months of accommodation?" Regina laughs again and Emma bites her lip as the sound brushes warm against her ear, inclining her head. "After you left, they began debating what to do about the Council."

Emma's brows rise well into her hairline. She told them about her suspicions so they would be aware of the danger, not because she wants their help. If left to those two idiots, they'll all be dead by morning and with that thought, she tenses with the intent to stand.

The hand flexes against her thigh, preventing her from moving an inch and Emma feels a brief flicker of annoyance at being thwarted. "Regina," she says slowly. "If we don't intervene, they'll get us all killed."

"Yes," Regina agrees, "but I need you to think about this before you storm in there and put a stop to it," she adds, voice and hand soothing Emma as she strokes her thigh. "Alessa and I are not the only magic users among us, Emma. Your parents may be useless, but there are others…"

Emma frowns but she considers her words. If there are others, then why didn't Regina suggest _them_ when they went looking for Henry? "Do you trust these _others_?"

Regina sighs and Emma smiles. That was a resounding _no_ if she's ever heard one. "But they are loyal to your parents."

The smile immediately falls to a grimace. If Regina is about to suggest she make nice with them for the sake of help she doesn't even want, then Emma might just kill someone after all.

"Let them stay here and protect the others." Regina straightens and both of their heads turn to Alessa. She smiles. "You know, even if I hadn't sensed it when we met, there is no doubting the two of you are bound given; there is a harmonization about you that is both eerie and fascinating in equal measure."

When neither respond, she chuckles and steps away from the balcony railing. "Let us go and see what the others have come up with, shall we?"

* * *

 

Nothing.

Well; not _nothing_ , Regina concedes silently. The idea to erect wards and establish a night watch are, for the most part, a sound plan. What isn't so sound is the fact Snow and Charming expect her, Emma, and the rest of their group to be a part of it. She doesn't want to remain here. There are too many memories, some of them even good but not nearly enough to keep out the bad. Emma doesn't want to stay here. Richard has no choice, as he goes where Emma does. Michael, Graham and Victor don't seem to care. Red will go wherever they go, and Henry…

Henry is a child and will do as he's told, whether he likes it or not. He might try to argue with her, he may even hate her, and while that will sting, their feelings are no longer her top priority. He can hate her. She has survived the better part of two years suffering his childish whims, and she will do so again if it means he is safe.

These people may be heroes, but strategists they are not. They are _good_ , people who don't understand the necessities of war. These people would stand in the face of true evil and then hand over second chances as if they were going out of season. Their grasp of what it means to sacrifice is wrapping their 5 minute old child in a blanket and sending her through a tree to another world, not knowing what awaits, and most likely not even caring as long as it meant her growing up and somehow finding them one day to save them all.

Evil Regina may be, but at least she doesn't mask her decisions as _the greater good_. She doesn't care about these people, and she certainly isn't about to start. Why should she? They never cared about her. Snow liked to pretend on occasion that she was merciful, yet all her attempts—her second chances were masks, decisions based on her own guilt and the fact she couldn't stand that there was someone in this miserable land who hated her with every fiber of their being.

Snow White is a selfish do-gooder with an over inflated sense of self who would rather condemn her only child than be seen as anything other than a hero to her people. Regina has never, and will never want anything to do with the woman, nor her imbecilic husband, or her subjects. Snow can have her kingdom. She can have her husband, her _true love_ , but her life is the last thing she gets.

Regina would sooner burn down this castle with all of them inside, than _protect_ that wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Regina, dear."

Snapping from her thoughts to focus on Alessa, Regina feels the intense heat in her lap. She glances down and her eyes grow wide as she quickly flicks her wrist, dismissing the fireball in the palm of her hand.

"Just a wild guess," Emma says, laughter in her voice. "I don't think Regina is on board with that one."

Charming looks about to protest but a hand on his knee keeps him silent as Snow sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Regina, is there something you want to say?"

Regina rolls her eyes. She contemplates simply leaving the room, done with the two of them. Done listening. Done sitting around while tolerating these people who, if not for the woman beside her, likely would have tried to confine or even kill her long before this moment.

They _did_ attempt to confine her in fact and as she remembers this, she also briefly considers going ahead and setting them on fire before she takes a breath. It is a horribly appealing thought, but she apparently has limits now.

Her son's doing, no doubt.

"I think you are both relying on the two of us far too much," she states and before Charming can interrupt, she takes his voice. "You were informed of our intentions when you were busy accusing me of murder, and they have not changed since this afternoon."

Snow turns to Emma and Regina relaxes, more than confident Emma is in agreement with her as she sinks back into the cushions of the settee.

"If we're gone, perhaps the Council will leave you be," Emma reasons with a shrug. "If they don't come in force and massacre everyone, then they will hide, maybe grow their strength. Either way, I refuse to wait and see, and would therefore suggest that whatever plans you make, you assume we won't be here to help."

Regina smiles, smug as she watches Charming and Snow deflate before their eyes, the defeatist expressions they wear doing wonders for her anger. She returns Charming's voice with a lazy gesture of the hand and waits, expecting very little, and surprised when he doesn't immediately begin ranting as he has been prone to lately.

She doesn't recall him being quite so vocal in the past, but perhaps that has more to do with the fact he spent 28 years in a coma—that he was simply making up for lost time.

Or maybe she never cared enough to pay him any attention beyond upsetting Snow. Not that she particularly cares now, for him or his reason/s. Charming is no more than a shepherd turned Prince, turned King with an even bigger ego than his wife, an overabundance of pride, and about as many working brain cells as what one might find in a body six and a half minutes post death.

Her musings are solely intrigue—the result of a childhood in which she'd stomached innumerable questions without seeking answers, as Cora had tolerated curiosity about as well as she had love, which is to say not well at all.

"If we're done here," Alessa prompts, to varying degrees of concession. "Before I came to find you, Victor informed me the two of you are in need of magical guidance."

Regina snorts. "I think you were misinformed, dear."

"She was not," Victor replies from across the room, reminding them all they aren't the only ones in the room. He and Alessa share a look before she turns to Regina who bristles, offended that they would just assume she wants or even needs their help.

When she tries to speak—to snap, her tongue feels heavy and refuses to move. She frowns, head suddenly clouded as if struggling to awaken from sleep. Alessa watches her, lips curved and Regina feels her throat constrict as eyes that were once an ocean blue turn completely black. It is then, as she begins to feel fear that she finally starts to perceive exactly what she has become as her heart does not race beneath her breast.

It is perhaps no more than a split second before the sounds of gasps reach her ears and the fog lifts from her mind. She blinks, shaking her head to rid it of its burden as she tries to figure out what happened and sees Emma stood before the older nightwalker, her hand around the woman's throat.

Alessa continues to smile as she speaks. "I was only proving a point, child."

"Try words next time," Emma snarls. "Use your powers on her again and I won't hesitate to snap your neck."

As understanding dawns, Regina chuckles before their shock filled faces turn on her and the sound becomes outright laughter at their expressions. If not for the raven black hair and the small hints at a sense of humour buried somewhere in those eyes, she would assume her mother had come back from the dead.

Cora hadn't been one for words either. If she wanted to make a point, she would happily string Regina up with magic and beat it into her until she had proven she understood what her mother never bothered to waste words on saying. It was only as she got older—smarter that Cora tried words. Not only is Regina well-versed in this particular form of persuasion, but were Cora still alive, she would've known it to be nigh on impossible to convince Regina of anything with such tactics.

Regardless of her will to be stubborn, however, her pride does not extend to delusions of being right when she had been so very clearly wrong and with a smile, Regina composes herself enough to stand. She takes note of their continued looks, and chuckles once more before she beckons, not waiting to see if, or who, follows as she makes her way to the room in which Victor has been training her since she first awoke.


	33. Chapter 33

Emma returns from her patrol of the grounds to a house filled with silence. She glances first to a corner of the main room where father and son lounge, and shakes her head when she realizes they’ve drunken themselves into unconsciousness. Upon closer inspection, she finds Richard passed out on the floor beneath the table. She glances about in search of Ruby but fails to spot the woman anywhere in the vicinity and not for the first time since leaving everyone else, she wonders why they’d bothered to bring the others with them. Victor, Michael and Richard are all decent enough in a fight and might be able to help should the Elders attack, but in their current state, they are about as useful as Henry and his stupid book of fairy tales.

“It inspires such faith.”

Smiling, Emma turns to the voice. “Doesn’t it just?” She’d been wary of her at first, but after a week, Kathryn began to grow on Emma. Once she learned the woman had at some point been a Princess, and she was able to attribute her mannerisms to the ‘stick up her ass’ syndrome that all royals seemed to have, Emma decided Kathryn wasn’t half bad.

That Regina considers her a friend, she supposes, helps.

Turning back to her little family, Emma sighs. She will leave them for now, but in the morning, she vows to spend what little free time she has ridding the house of even the smallest traces of alcohol. They won’t thank her for it, but their gratitude is of little consequence to her when compared to keeping them safe and protecting them from their own stupidity.

“How’s she doing?”

Kathryn makes a sound that is something between a snort and a laugh. “I have never seen her as frustrated as she has been today,” she replies. Emma looks to her from the corner of an eye, questioning. “I don’t think Alessa is the right one to be teaching her.”

Emma shrugs. “She’s the only option. I don’t know the first thing about training an ordinary nightwalker to use their powers, let alone someone like Regina.”

“You learned. Why not teach her the same way you were taught? Surely it isn’t that different.”

Emma considers it. Her Sire didn’t know the first thing about training a fledgling. She had thought the best teacher was experience itself, and was more than happy to send her changes out into the world with the mere basics; keep your anger in check. Do not expose yourself to the humans. Remain indoors during the day. The more Emma thought about her first two years as a nightwalker, the more she was able to justify killing the woman who’d made her what she is.

Very few know the truth but the reality of it is; Emma had taught herself. Victor and Michael helped, but for the most part, she’d been alone for a while before the two of them came along.

Control has never been an easy thing to maintain, but if there was ever an emotion she was most intimate with as a human, then it was anger. She wore it like a second skin, welcomed the warmth of it, embraced the exhaustion that overcame her whenever she felt it because in anger was the only time she was at peace. Anger to her is as familiar as the steady beat of a human heart and the blood that it pumps through veins waiting to be opened.

Unfortunately, Regina doesn’t need anger. The lessons Emma might teach the average Nightwalker would be of no use to her. Regina requires love, the one thing Emma has spent her entire life without. Regardless of what she wants for her mate, Alessa is the obvious, and perhaps only, choice.

“She knows what she’s doing,” she says finally. “Regina is impatient, but she will learn.”

“If you say so,” Kathryn concedes, her expression one of disbelief.

As she turns and walks back to the chair she was seated in when Emma entered, Emma follows her. When Kathryn first spoke, she remembered a conversation Regina had with her a few days prior, and almost managed to forget it all over again. “Hey,” she says to a raised brow. “Regina said you wanted to know more about thralls. Are you…”

“I want to help her, yes.” Kathryn smiles and shakes her head with a laugh before she explains, “Strange as it might seem, I think I might owe her.”

Emma stares, confused but curious as she tilts her head. Kathryn sighs. “Truthfully, I think we all owe her something. She thought she was taking away our happy endings, when in reality she did more good by cursing us than anyone seems willing to admit.”

Emma nods. She’s had the same thought a number of times since Regina first admitted to being the Evil Queen. Not only did she think Regina’s revenge resembled what one might find inside the head of a boredom-induced coma patient, but she rolled her eyes any time someone mentioned the word evil in reference to the curse. The only evil thing she thinks might qualify is the fact Regina killed her own father to enact it, and if that was all it took to earn the title, then every single one of them is going to Hell.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” she says after several minutes. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around how a Queen can be a murderer. All I’ve managed to figure out so far is that the holier than thou screech of a supposed hero turns people into brainless sheep.”

“That about sums it up,” Kathryn agrees with a grin. She shrugs after a moment. “Some of us are tired of being sheep. Snow and David can spin as many speeches as they like, but the fact they’re more concerned about restoring their Kingdom said all I needed to hear. Regina would never have put her throne ahead of the lives of her people.”

Emma smirks. If Regina had, then she would have had a lot less people to terrorize. Of course, Emma doesn’t say such a thing out loud. She has come to understand that even those who have more in common with Regina than they do Snow, are just as blinded by their own ideals. Most people can accept certain things about others, but it is rare to find anyone who accepts them as a whole. Regina might not have neglected her people as Queen, but she _did_ kill them, frequently if her stories are to be believed. If Kathryn wants to overlook that, however, for whatever reason, then that is her prerogative .

“So, thralls?” Kathryn nods and Emma drops into the chair next to her as she explains, “Bluntly put, they’re a food source for my kind. We need blood to survive and a willing source is always… preferable to an unwilling one.”

“I imagine having to chase your food would become rather tiresome after the first 50 years or so of immortality,” Kathryn comments dryly.

“Eh. Some people like the chase.” Emma grins, then says, “The point is, if you’re willing, there are benefits. You’ll be stronger, for one— faster, for another. There is also the possibility of longevity but, honestly, I don’t know of anyone who has survived long enough to know if that’s true or not.”

“You mean if I agree to become her food, I will eventually be like you? Like her?”

Emma shakes her head. “ _Like_ us, sure, but us as in a nightwalker? No. By sharing this connection with her, you… inherit certain parts of her power. You’ll be considerably more powerful than a human, but you’ll still be fairly close to the bottom of the food chain. You might be able to wrestle a bear and come out the victor, but I wouldn’t advise getting within spitting distance of another nightwalker. Not on your own, at least.”

Looking back across the room to where Richard remains sprawled beneath the table, she inclines her head in his direction. “There is a… sort of evolution involved in becoming a thrall. Richard, for instance, liked to pretend he was nothing more than a harmless chauffeur. I haven’t spent as much time with him as I should have since we came here, but I doubt he’s all that different now.”

Leaning back in her seat, she waits for Kathryn to look at her before she continues. “As Regina feeds from you, a connection will form between you. You’ll start to feel different. Richard tells me it isn’t entirely… pleasant, to begin with but after a while your body will begin to adapt to the— imbalance of power, I suppose is the most accurate way to describe it. You’ll be weak for the first few feedings, but when your strength returns, you’ll notice the difference immediately.”

“I’ve never heard anyone refer to him as your thrall before.”

Emma smiles. “That is what I mean by evolution. Like with nightwalkers, there are different stages of being a thrall. Richard is what is known as a familiar, fully evolved. I always thought their lives were a bit like Stockholm’s. I mean, they have to be willing in order to be changed, but that doesn’t always mean they know what they’re in for, you know? Beyond the feeding, thralls weren’t part of the Coven until the connection between thrall and master was fully formed, and were often kept confined to their rooms.”

Realization of what she is doing is swift, and Emma chuckles. “Not that I am trying to turn you off the idea,” she says, grinning.

Part of her is, if she’s honest. The entire process to her screams slavery, and their willingness to be changed in no way alters her belief. Regina needs to feed though, and people aren’t exactly lining up for the position. Kathryn not only appears willing, but she had come to them one afternoon without either of them approaching her, and asked if there was some way she could help them after everyone else turned her away because she was a Princess, and as such, was expected to do very little.

Emma had left them alone to talk, only to learn a few days later that they’d discussed Kathryn becoming Regina’s thrall. She wasn’t exactly pleased about it, but nor could she argue against the decision. The simple fact of that matter is; they can’t keep drinking from each other and Regina needs someone of royal blood to even be able to tolerate drinking from them. Kathryn is the perfect choice, not only because she’s a Princess, but because she is someone Regina considers a friend and if there is one thing Emma can understand, it is the need to keep close the people she cares about.

“You wanted to help,” she reminds her. “Doing this for Regina is helping. If she keeps drinking from me, it puts us all at risk. This way, we’ll both be at full strength and once you adjust, there are a lot of us who know how to fight and we can teach you. The next time someone tells you you’re just a Princess, you’ll be able to break their face on your hand.”

Kathryn cocks her head to the side with a grin and says, “Your speeches are a lot more convincing than David’s.”

Emma smiles innocently and replies, “That’s probably because I’m not a moron.”

Just then, a door opens and Emma turns toward the sound. Regina storms into the room with a scowl on her face, Alessa seconds behind and muttering to herself.

“You are impossible,” Regina shouts and Alessa throws back her head back, and laughs.

“ _I_ am impossible?” She repeats, her voice about two octaves higher than it usually is. She turns to Emma. “She is the most hard headed, vindictive woman I have ever met,” she says. “You have my sympathies.”

Emma raises her hands when Regina glares at her, daring her to agree. She tries to insist she wants no part in their current drama, but the moment she opens her mouth, Regina shakes her head as if sensing exactly what she intends to say, and walks right passed her.

Alessa comes to stand beside her, a hand on the back of her chair as Emma watches Regina leave with a frown. “I am at a loss, child,” Alessa admits. “Anything that requires even the smallest of patience, angers her. I spend more time shielding myself from her fireballs than she does learning.”

Emma sighs. She’d known Regina was becoming angrier with every failed lesson they had, but she didn’t think it was as bad as Alessa having to defend herself against Regina’s magic.

Without a word of assurance to either woman, Emma stands and walks off in search of her mate. If their best option at helping Regina wasn’t getting anywhere, then perhaps Kathryn had been right and it was time for her to step in and _make_ their drama her own.

* * *

 

“I was never taught to control my powers.”

Regina jumps, startled. She flicks her wrist and extinguishes the fire in her hand before she turns. “No?”

Emma shakes her head, smiling. “I’m not really the watch and learn type of girl,” she says, arms lifting from her sides as if to say, _“What can you do?”_

Regina grins at that. Emma is the type of person who runs headlong into things and doesn’t think to ask questions until it’s too late. Her idea of control is to hit, and be hit until something gives, or a lot of things break. That she cannot abide passive learning comes as no surprise. If she thinks on it too long, Regina might even consider such a thing endearing— part of the Emma Swan charm that is made up of all her flaws and perfections.

“I’ve kept to the sidelines because I thought Alessa would understand you better,” Emma admits. It has been almost a week and the sum of her help when it comes to Regina can be described in as little as two words; fuck all. She has her reasons, but Regina needs her and she is beginning to see that her reasons are no longer enough.

“You have magic. You feel things that I don’t. You both have these connections to other people whereas I only have you. If I can’t teach you, then I might as well cripple you myself because without your powers, that is exactly what you are. You need to learn to defend yourself and break through other people’s barriers because if you don’t, we’re both going to die.”

Regina deflates as the words bring yet another surge of disappointment with them. She keeps failing, over and over, and the one person who is meant to be able to help her can’t get through. Each time she thinks there might be progress, something prevents her from reaching the goal and it is just… so… frustrating.

“I am trying,” she growls, though the words are without the bite she intends.

“I know.” Emma continues to smile at her as she stands there and Regina feels herself drawn to the allure of her arms, their promise of warmth calling to her as if a Siren calling to the men who would dare sail her seas. “You didn’t… you _haven_ _’t_ failed,” Emma says, embracing her. “I should never have agreed to Alessa teaching you. _I_ am your Sire. It should have been me from the start.”

When Regina melts into her, Emma kisses the top of her head and starts to sway them. They are more alike than she had let herself believe. Regina’s anger may be what fuels her magic, but it is also an obstacle that needs to be overcome before she can learn to control her powers. Emma was wrong to think her ability to feel other emotions would temper that anger. She thought it would help, not hinder, but like every other nightwalker, Regina’s anger is strong— stronger than whatever else she feels.

“When you cast your spells, do you think about anything?”

“Misery. Hate.”

Emma chews the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping. That isn’t what she meant. She quietly breathes in and elaborates, “But visualization wise. Do you see something? Do you picture the things you want to do in your mind, or is it just… instinct?”

“Most of the time it’s instinct,” Regina mumbles into her shoulder. “Some spells, transformation ones mostly, do require you to think about what you want to do. Why?”

“When I want to break through the barriers in someone’s mind, I imagine their defenses as something solid. A wall of ice, a mirror; something that with enough force, or the right kind of force, will break or shatter.”

Regina lifts her head. “And that works for you?”

“Yes,” she murmurs, thinking back on the times it worked a little too well for other people. She brushes the memories aside with the shake of her head. “Alessa probably told you it was instinct right? A matter of willpower. That if you just thought about breaking through and you were stronger, you would?”

At her nod, Emma smirks. “Yeah, that didn’t work for me either and since you have been in my head before…” She trails off at the reminder, and frowns. Regina hadn’t known what she was doing at the time, but it did prove she _could_ do it. “What were you thinking before you took us down to the dungeon?”

A hint of pink appears in olive cheeks and her smirk widens. “I…” Regina hesitates before she admits, “I thought about the clothes you were wearing, and how I wanted to shred them to pieces.”

Emma wraps her arms more firmly around her waist. “And your feelings,” she says, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “What were they?”

“Irritation,” Regina confesses, closing her eyes. “I wasn’t happy with you interrupting me. Then there was lust, seeing that it was you, such a pretty interruption.” Emma chuckles, lips brushing the length of her nose before coming to rest no more than an inch away from her mouth. “Love, when I realized our son was stood on the opposite side of the room from where he had been when I entered.”

To this very second, it is an image burned into her brain. Being his mother, she was able to see passed the terror that had been in his eyes and what she’d seen had stuck with her. He was scared of what she might do, but he had been looking at Emma as though he was seeing her for the first time. It gave her hope, and continues to do so despite his attempts to distance himself from them.

He is a boy, trapped in a world where fairy tales are no longer simply stories in his book. His eyes are being opened, finally, and he is starting to realize that life is a lot more than black and white. In his eyes, Emma is a monster who’d murdered a woman right in front of him by tearing out her heart. Emma is the monster who turned his adoptive mother into someone just like her, yet Emma is also the monster who stopped that same mother from possibly killing him, seemingly without thought, as if she might, somewhere deep down, be capable of caring about him enough to protect him when she is under no obligations to do so.

Regina knows better, of course, but that Henry is starting to understand that the world isn’t as simple as he once believed; even she, an Evil Queen, cannot deny that hope is a powerful thing.

“Look at me,” Emma says and Regina meets her gaze. “Whatever you are feeling right now, hold on to it. Can you do that?”

Hopeful. Proud. Love. Longing. Regina frowns at the many things she feels in that moment, but she does her best, and nods.

“Good.” Emma grins and lowers her voice. “That smile is something special,” she murmurs, kissing her on the nose. “Right. Now think of something solid— a wall, tree, glass…”

“A body?” Regina purrs, smirking as she watches a pale lip vanish between teeth. “Unyielding and in need of a good, firm hand? Or perhaps a whip?”

Emma swallows. Breaking through someone’s mental barriers certainly requires perseverance, she thinks, and scolds herself for the thought. If Regina is going to distract her every time she tries to help, she might as well give up now. She sighs. “Maybe not this time.”

“Buzzkill.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” she promises and rolls her eyes. “Now. Feelings, thoughts… all good?” Regina nods again. “Alright. Use them. Just like anger, all those warm, beautiful emotions filling you are your fuel. Think about my barriers, pretend they’re solid, and break them.”

“I—”

“Can do it,” Emma interrupts. “You can. You’ve done it before, without even trying. Trust me. Concentrate on what you want to do, and will it.”

It starts as an itch Emma can’t quite place, a probing that with practice and intent, could one day become one hell of a headache. As the feeling intensifies, so does her smile. Regina’s eyes are mesmerizing as the colour drains from them, pupils dilating until her irises are entirely black and they are all Emma can see.

The barriers in her mind start to bend and she shudders. The sheer, raw power Regina is exuding is unlike anything she’s ever felt before as the itch transforms, a sharp, stabbing pain that leaves Emma wanting to clutch at her head. She tries not to resist but after years of perfecting her defenses, her powers have been honed to react to threats without her, and the longer Regina takes to tear them down, the more painful it becomes.

And then it simply stops.

Confused, Emma squints at the rushing return of chestnut eyes and questions, “Why did you stop?”

Regina raises a hand and swipes something from her lip. She holds up her thumb as she says, “Your nose is bleeding.”

“Oh.” Emma tries to wipe up the rest with her shirt, but Regina smacks her hand away at the last second and a napkin suddenly appears between two fingers, held in front of her face. She takes it, pressing it to her nose with a mumbled, “It happens.”

“Evidently.”

“I might need to work on… not resisting.” She lowers the napkin and smiles crookedly. “As it turns out, we’re pretty evenly matched.”

Regina snatches the napkin from her with a huff and holds it against her nose. “You have yet to tell me why you’re bleeding.”

“Literally what I _just_ did,” Emma argues, sighing when all she gets is a glare. “The more I resist, the more it hurts. No one likes a headache, but my body likes to be dramatic.”

“Well we know it can be done now,” Regina says while removing the napkin and tilting her head back. “Perhaps I should return to Alessa.”

“No,” Emma snaps without meaning to, and sighs, pushing her hand away. “Thank you,” she says, gesturing to the napkin. “For that, but I meant what I said. I should be the one teaching you. I’ve wasted enough time already. I’ll deal with the nosebleeds, and you can work on picturing something a little stronger than sheet metal.”

“How did you—”

“I didn’t,” she interrupts with a grin. “It was just a hunch, and it was all I could think of to explain why it felt like you were trying to snap my brain in half.”

Regina winces. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” she scowls playfully. “You did good and next time, you’ll do even better.” Grin widening, she wraps Regina more firmly in her arms, and lifts. Regina gasps. “Now, about that unyielding body you mentioned earlier…”


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked who I pictured when my OCs come into play, so if you're interested...
> 
> [Victor](http://www.videaspa.it/sites/videaspa.it/files/character/gallery/mo.jpg)  
> [Alessa](http://www.brandtalent.net/images/models/2115/portfolio/Iris-Almario-6.jpg)  
> [Michael](http://www.lamag.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/9/2015/08/brant.jpg)  
> [Richard](http://br.web.img1.acsta.net/medias/nmedia/18/35/64/97/18435097.jpg)
> 
> Probably not what some or most of you imagined. Feel free to think of them differently, these are just the closest likenesses I could find.

Head resting on Regina’s stomach, Emma grins, staring down at her feet. “You have cute toes.” She’d never noticed before.

Regina flicks the back of her head, and Emma chuckles as she nips at the skin beside her bellybutton. She straightens, pressing the full length of her body along Regina’s side. “I was just saying,” she murmurs, dropping a kiss to her shoulder before she props her head in the palm of her hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Regina purrs and rolls to her side. She drapes an arm across her waist and buries her face in Emma’s chest. “Not as good as when I drink from you, though.”

Emma shivers as lips move against her flesh. Smiling, she runs fingers through her hair and down her neck, her back, stroking. The fact Regina attacked her the second they were alone together tells her that drinking from Kathryn isn’t as harrowing as Regina’s voice might otherwise lead her to believe. She has every intention of letting Regina drink from her every so often, and she has told her as much. Sympathy  though; that she can do for the woman whose mouth has taken to marking her chest.

“Just think,” she says, “now that you’re not draining me every couple of days, we can add feedings to our already mind-blowing sexcapades.”

Regina’s laughter vibrates against her chest and she lifts her head. “I may possess more stamina than you now, but your mind, Miss Swan…” Emma scowls before Regina kisses the look from her face. “Your mind is a marvel of filth.”

Emma grins. “You love it,” she counters and Regina hums. She does, likely far more than Emma will ever know. “Hey. While we’re being all mushy…”

She leaves the sentence hanging but Regina smirks, easily following. “I am not entirely certain that a conversation of blood play and sex constitutes mushy, but very well,” she concedes to the unspoken suggestion.

Regina mirrors Emma’s position, propping her head in hand as their eyes meet. Every day since the first, she has grown closer to bringing Emma’s barriers down. She has yet to try in the minutes following sex, but if Emma deems what she is feeling in the moment adequate fuel, then she’s more than willing to try.

Before she has even begun to conjure an image in her mind, Emma winces and she stops, brow furrowing in confusion. “I haven’t started yet.”

“Your leg,” Emma rasps as she slides a hand down along her thigh.

Regina follows her gaze to the knee she has wedged between her legs. “Oh,” she breathes, surprised as she tries to pull it back.

“No,” Emma says, gripping the back of her thigh. “I wasn’t expecting it, but distractions can help. Leave it.”

Regina expels a breathe through her nose, not frustrated but not entirely agreeable either. Her concentration will be stretched thin, as will her fuse for denying herself the temptation warming her front. Emma, naked and laying with her— touching her —is a big enough distraction on its own. Add in the soft, wet heat against her thigh, and her failure seems inevitable.

Emma leans in and kisses her slowly, but surely and Regina’s lids flutter as a warmth takes over her chest. Emma might think she is unable to feel love, but her ability to show it has a way of taking Regina’s breath away and she pushes forward, pushing Emma down on to her back. She straddles her hips and deepens the kiss, wanting more, always wanting more.

Another distraction.

Complications; that is all Emma Swan is.

An intelligent…

beautiful…

powerful…

special complication that Regina will never, _ever_ get enough of.

Emma is more of a drug to her now than she ever was. She is the highs and lows all rolled into one. A euphoria that shrouds her in the sweetest of things, a promise of everything and anything her heart has ever desired, known and unknown. Emma is what lurks in the dark when the euphoria ends, beyond reach or sight, a threat…

a tease…

a gift.

Kissing, touching, holding Emma is like giving in to magic, giving up her control, surrendering to something beyond her own mind for the possibility of _more_. Emma is want, and need. She is push and pull, lust and love. She is a poison, a remedy, a sudden downpour in the midst of a desert, gasping for breath.

Emma Swan is happiness. Safe. Sweet. Solid—

Like sand through her fingers, Emma Swan crumbles. Regina inhales sharply, eyes open wide as a memory grips her firmly in its grasp.

_“You?” The blue eyes staring up at her was all one could see of the woman’s face, the rest bathed in red. Blood caked her skin, her hair, her clothes. “You are the one who has betrayed me?”_

_Emma bared her teeth in a bloodied grin, sword clasped in one hand while the other lay limp at her side._ _“And why not?_ You are only as good as the one who made you,” _she mocked._ _“How many times have you spouted that line at me?”_

_Looking around the room, she gestured to the men and women who had gathered to stand witness. All were injured. Some had been stabbed, others burned. Some wore wounds that were indistinguishable from the blood adorning their clothes, while others still were broken— crippled. They would all heal eventually, but it was clear who had won, their mistress laid bare at the feet of her betrayer and the four wolves pacing the floor behind her._

_“At us,” she said on a breath of false laughter. “Those who would call you mistress and bow down at your feet to be kicked, and trodden on on your way to glory that you yourself could not, and did not, earn. You, oh wise mistress, who betrayed the human race when you became a monster and they, your cattle.”_

_“You are one of us,” the woman spat, lunged. She gripped Emma’s shirt, sneering up at her. Blue became black as teeth grew elongated and cracked lips parted in a hiss. “You would be nothing without me.”_

_Emma shook her head._ _“I would be_ alive _without you,_ _” she growled and raised her sword before bringing it down in a killing arc._

Regina gasps, feeling the spray of blood on her face as though she is right there as it happens. The sound of metal slicing cleanly through flesh and bone rings in her ears as she stares down at Emma, breathing hard.

Emma smiles up at her. “Told you you could do it.”

Closing her eyes, Regina brings their heads together. “I saw… You were…” _magnificent._ She tries. Tries to think, to speak, to do— _something_. All she’d meant to do was bring Emma’s barriers down. She didn’t think about what happened after that. She never imagined…

“ _Emma_ ,” she whispers, struggling between confusion, pride, curiosity.

Guilt too, if she considers the feeling at all. So much guilt. She’d always wondered what Emma meant when she told Rumple that his son’s memories of him were not fond. She had always meant to ask, but had never found the time. Despite teaching her about her powers, no one bothered to mention the fact she might one day be able to live the memory of another as though it were her own. That she had— that it had been one of Emma’s, and without her permission…

“It’s okay,” Emma says just as softly. “You did it. You went a little further than—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Emma snaps, hands cupping her cheeks. Regina slowly opens her eyes. “You did what you were supposed to, anything more than that is on me. I could have pushed you out, but I didn’t. Whatever you saw, I meant it; it’s okay. I’m not upset. Promise. If anything, this just proves you’re an overachiever, and I am so not surprised.”

Regina straightens then, eyes narrowed. If Emma says it’s okay, then she will accept it. She can do this. She can pretend. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Emma grins. “Twenty seven M&Ms,” she says, reminding her of the time she competed with Henry to see how many they could fit in their mouths at once.

“Nine wins,” Emma continues; the number of times she beat her in one of those silly video games. Regina smirks. So maybe it won’t all be pretend. She is still quite proud of that one, considering she’d never played a video game in her life before that night. “Five consecutive orgasms.”

That— that one is rather self explanatory.  “You should know better than to tease me,” she counters, hands gliding along her arms to settle upon her shoulders.

“Mmm,” Emma hums. She does, which is why she does it in the first place. “Point is; you like to win. You like to prove everyone wrong, even when you’re the only one who thinks you are. It is just one more maddening thing that makes you you, and reminds me of why I adore you.”

“Is it a regular thing?” Regina raises a brow, her tone that of curious amusement as she says, “To need a reminder of why you adore me?”

Emma smiles and her eyes brighten playfully. “Constant,” she drawls, “especially when you call me Miss Swan.”

Maybe, Regina thinks. Maybe there is no reason to pretend at all. Emma is joking with her and it isn’t as though she’d seen something she didn’t already know. It’s clear to her the memory she lived was that of Emma killing her Sire. Beyond the faces and the small matter of Emma never having mentioned beheading the woman, she’d learned nothing new— nothing Emma willfully kept from her.

“Miss Swan, hmm?” Emma scowls and pokes her in the side.

Regina chuckles. “Miss Swan,” she repeats, drawing it out, laughing as Emma flips her on to her back and glares down at her. She licks her lips, eyes half-lidded as she purrs, “And what, dare I ask, do you think you are doing, _Miss Swan_?”

“Teaching you a lesson, Your Majesty,” Emma growls, mouth covering her pulse a split-second before teeth sink deep into her neck.

“Oh,” she moans as her back arches and her eyes roll to the back of her head. “Yes, please.”

* * *

 

 

Fingers lightly playing over the two puncture holes in her neck, Regina smiles to herself. Emma had freaked out when she saw them, immediately jumping to the conclusion that something had to be wrong for her not to have healed. When she pointed out that it was because of magic and the fact she’d cast a preservation spell over them, Emma had given her a strange look and wandered off. She isn’t worried. Emma often gives her looks she can’t always interpret. She likes to think that whenever it happens, Emma is calling her a weirdo or something similar in her head, and it makes her smile every single time.

Emma rarely asks for explanations, but if she had, then Regina would have told her she wanted a physical reminder of their afternoon together. Not forever, but long enough that she might actually get to enjoy it.  She had never considered the things she might miss had she ever bothered to think about what it might be like to no longer be human. Almost instantaneous healing is all well and good, until you realize the feeling of those nails piercing the skin of your back will fade well before the high of the orgasm that causes them.

When it comes to the pain brought about by a skilled lover, there is nothing she misses more. She misses sleeping because she needs to, rather than because she wants to. She misses dreaming. She misses that first bite of an apple, the juices spilling out over her lips, slacking thirst and hunger simultaneously, instead of nostalgia. The burn of nails, the throb of teeth that have long since left her body, the bruising grip of a hand on hips, wrists, neck; it is the possessive passion of a lover who knows her well that she misses most, and there is no one who has ever known her better than Emma.

“Emma thinks we should bond.”

Regina stiffens as a body drops on to the bench beside her. She slowly turns her head and finds Red staring at her, waiting for her to say something. “Come again?”

“I know.” She shrugs, a look of resignation on her face as she says, “You hate me.”

Regina scoffs. Hate is a bit strong. If she hated the woman, Red would have had an accident somewhere along the way to her private cabin. She would not be sitting beside her, claiming ridiculous statements such as the one about the two of them _bonding_. “You gave your strength for me,”

“For my own selfish gains.”

“Well,” she drawls. Henry had been right when he suggested Red wanted to be a part of whatever their little group was. A pack? A coven? Something else entirely? She didn’t know, nor did she truly care. “There is that.”

“Regina.”

She sighs. “Did Emma at least say why?” Probably not, but it was worth a shot.

“Not really.” Right. “She keeps calling me _your_ wolf, if that helps any.”

“It might,” she says. She has heard father and son refer to Michael as Emma’s wolf a time or two. There was also mention of a bond they shared, and of course there is the Guardian thing. Thinking about Red as her Guardian is… laughable at best. “You don’t sound particularly bothered that she calls you that.”

Red shrugs again and gestures around them. “Considering where we are, I can think of a lot of things I could be that are a whole lot worse.”

Alone. Hunted. Dead.

Regina assumes those are the main three _things_ and nods. Unless one stumbled across a village that was considered a sanctuary for their kind, of which there were only a few, shapeshifters weren’t the most welcome of the magical beings in their land and were often hunted. She’d abolished the barbaric law that prevented them living unmolested in her Kingdom, but she’d always known that she was ahead of her time. “I doubt you’ll ever need fear being hunted again, pup. If not your friendship with Snow White, then there are always those selfish gains to take advantage of.”

There is no immediate reply, but she feels the curious gaze on her and bored within the following silence, she eventually looks to the wolf as Red questions, “You don’t really believe I’m selfish for wanting a home and somewhere to belong, do you?”

“Your words, dear, not mine.” She would never presume to tell someone their own thoughts or feelings. If Red thinks her desires are selfish, then they are selfish regardless of what she herself thinks. “I don’t suppose you thought to ask Victor or Michael about this?”

“I haven’t seen Michael since he disappeared with her and Victor is uh…” Regina raises an eyebrow. “Napping.”

“Napping,” she repeats.

Red nods. “With Alessa,” she adds, cheeks pink as Regina’s eyes widen.

“Oh that is…” Regina shakes her head, laughing. “I did not need to know that.”

“Join the club,” Red mutters and Regina laughs even harder.

 

* * *

 

 

As the familiar laugh drifts in to the clearing on a breeze, Emma stills. It is only for second, but it is a second too long as Michael barrels into her and sends her flying. Her back collides with the nearest tree, and something breaks as the breath is knocked out of her lungs. She sucks in air and pain radiates along her side. A rib, she thinks, maybe two or more. It is preferable to her spine, much easier to heal.

Rising gingerly, her torso screams in protest. She concentrates on her breathing, eyes closed as she leans back against the tree and waits for it to pass. More. Definitely more.

“Sorry,” Michael offers from somewhere in front of her. Her eyes snap open and he grins at her from where he sits on the ground. “I heard it too.”

“I figured.” If she hadn’t been distracted, she would have stepped aside and sent him into the tree instead, head first. The impact would have knocked him out. “Can’t have me winning that easily.”

He shrugs and rests back on his hands as he tilts his head toward the sky. “You don’t like easy wins.”

Unable to argue with that, she nods and pushes from the tree. She falls to the ground beside him, fingers automatically moving to the grass and plucking it free. “Think they’re getting along?”

“Either that or Red had an accident,” he says, looking to her with another grin.

Emma chuckles. She wouldn’t put it passed Regina to laugh at someone else’s misfortune. Certainly not someone she is being forced to tolerate, but whatever the deal is between her and Red, Regina will have to get over it sooner or later. Red is the only werewolf with them that isn’t paired with a Nightwalker, and even those who walk in the day need a Guardian.

At least, she thinks they do.

Emma frowns. “Why are we doing this again?”

“You know as well as I do that there is more to a Guardian than standing over you while you sleep,” he replies, shooting her a look.

She rolls her eyes. Of course she does. “But she has all of us,” she says. “It isn’t as if I’m going to leave her again. I won’t have to.”

Michael shakes his head. “Are you so averse to sharing that you’d willingly deny her our connection?” She opens her mouth to argue that it has nothing to do with her aversions. “You’re the only ones who can communicate with us when we’re shifted, and you know it’s better she learn how with her _own_ wolf.”

Her mouth shuts with a click, and she huffs. There is more to it than that, but he makes a good point. If one of the wolves were to come across danger and Regina was the only one to hear them, then it would certainly help everyone if she could talk to them.

“She only just broke through my barriers a few hours ago,” she reasons after a moment. “I just think we might be pushing too much on to her too soon, especially considering I wasn’t resisting when she did it and _we_ had two years to learn how to work together, not to mention our past before that.”

He leans back further and stretches his legs out in front of him, sniffing as he cocks his head to the side. “You didn’t mention that.”

She shrugs. It wasn’t important. Regina did what she did, she did it well and with minimal damage. Emma is proud of her. “Isn’t really relevant. This time she was _trying_ to do it and managed to take me by surprise, which means she can take others by surprise. She found what drives her, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.”

“Did she tell you?”

“Didn’t ask,” she admits. Honestly, she didn’t see the point.

“Don’t you think you should?”

“Like I said, she has enough to do.” On top of their lessons, Regina still has to learn to combine her powers and magic, bond with Red, and establish a connection with Kathryn. “We’ll keep practicing and, somewhere along the way, I’ll find out what she’s thinking about when she breaks through.”

“Think it’s Henry?”

Emma wrinkles her nose. She would have thought so earlier, but she is almost certain it isn’t Henry. “With what we were doing at the time? I doubt it.”

He smirks and she knows what’s coming next by the look in his eyes. “You, then?”

She smiles. The possibility is there, and seemingly more likely than she would have thought when Regina mentioned it a few months earlier. Still, she won’t get her hopes up, and she answers him after a while. “Maybe.”


	35. Chapter 35

Having followed his scent through the forest, Emma leans against a tree when she comes upon Henry. She considers him quietly as he skip rocks across the small stream, appearing lost in thought. They haven’t done much in the way of speaking lately and she knows it needs to change. Whether she likes it or not, Henry isn’t simply the boy she gave up for adoption anymore. Even if she wasn’t his biological mother, she’s long since passed that point in her relationship when most people would consider the child of their partner, their own.

He has at least another seven years before Regina will even consider him old enough to make his own decisions. Emma, more than anyone, knows exactly how things can change in that amount of time. He might still want to get as far away from them as possible, or he might one day wake up and remember all the times Regina has been there for him, and finally stop brooding as though he no longer has a purpose in life.

When she notices his skipping has stopped and he’s looking over his shoulder at her, she straightens. She moves from between the shadows of tree trunks and walks the short distance separating them, throwing a leg over the log he sits on and taking a seat.

“You’ve been avoiding everyone,” she says without judgment. She understands and though she thinks it childish, he is only eleven. “Is this really how you want to spend all your time?”

He shrugs, returning his attention to the stream. “Since when do you care what I want?”

The question sends her eyes rolling. “I can’t decide which of you the bigger drama queen is,” she says. “You, or your mother.” His face screws up, but he doesn’t say a thing and she nods.

He knows he’s being childish too, then.

When Regina told him they were leaving, he’d argued against it and then pouted the whole way to the cabin. He’d accused them both of running away, of being terrible people because they refused to bow to the whims of the so-called heroes. He had wrongly assumed they would stay with Snow and Charming, pretend to be the happy little family that he somehow imagined in his head despite their obvious dislike of each other.

The morning they shattered that silly dream of his, he’d resorted back to those months in Storybrooke when he ‘hated’ everyone and thing. It had gone from being something Emma found highly irritating, to something amusing. The avoidance, the cold shoulder, the silent treatment; it all reminds her of Regina and Regina? Well. Regina isn’t irritating. Regina is extremely entertaining when she’s in a mood, and Emma now finds her son to be the funniest thing in the world.

She thinks it might be the self-imposed solitary getting to her, but also finds going crazy an improvement on being surrounded by people she wants to murder constantly.

“Your mom tells me that if you’d been born in this world, you’d be learning how to use a sword and ride horses,” she mentions casually. “I keep trying to picture it, but then I imagine you getting impatient during a lesson. It’s actually quite amusing. You, throwing your sword down in a fit of rage and storming off in a huff.”

His jaw ripples and she raises her hand, poking him in the cheek. “Go away,” he snaps, jerking his head away.

“No,” she replies. She has left him alone. It’s been almost two weeks, and still he sulks. She is done waiting for him. “The things you waste time on,” she tuts, shaking her head. She pokes him again and says, “I’m bored. You’re boring.”

He scowls, anger raising his voice as he shouts, “I’m not here for your amusement!”

“No?” She raises a brow. What else was there? “Then what? You’ve done fuck all beyond put us all in danger since we got here. As far as I’m concerned, my amusement is all you’re good for.”

Face red, he shoots to his feet, fists clenched at his side. She has to hold in her laughter when he turns to her, and stomps his foot.

“Very mature,” she drawls, brow rising even higher as she stands. “If you ever want to be taken seriously,” she says, motioning to him with an up and down wave her hand. “Then this sullen shit needs to stop. You’re a Prince, quit acting like a spoiled little Princess.”

He freezes and stares up at her in shock. “What?” She questions, eyes narrowed. “Did you forget your mother is a Queen? When we’re through here and have taken care of the Elders, did you think this was it? That she would come back here and live out her hundreds, possibly thousands of years, as a peasant?”

“I…” He shakes his head, frowning. “She’s the Evil Queen.”

Emma clenches her teeth, her anger hot and sudden. “Call her that again, and I’ll toss you into the stream,” she warns. Ungrateful little shit. “If it wasn’t for her, and everything she did, you wouldn’t even exist. Best not to forget that, boy.”

The bob of his throat helps to calm her a little, and his shoulders slump. “Why am I here?”

She rolls her eyes, again. “Because like it or not, you’re our son and the thought of leaving you with Snow and Charming makes our skin crawl.” He glances down at the ground as she adds, “You’re a big enough idiot as is without their influence.”

When he lifts his head and she sees his smile, her gaze meets his in confusion. “What? Why are you smiling?” She’d just insulted him and his grandparents in a single breath; hardly a reason to smile… unless he agreed and—

Hmm. Maybe there is hope for him yet, she thinks.

“You called me your son.”

Or not.

She sighs. She did. She knows it. No point denying it. “I’ve been out in the sun too long,” she deadpans. “It’s bad for my health. My mental health. I’m going insane.”

His smile widens and she groans, both inwardly and aloud. “You’re bloody needy, you know that?”

He nods and she tilts her head, surprised. Her son is apparently honest. Who knew? “Well… as long as you know,” she says after a moment. “If you’re done sulking, come along.”

She doesn’t wait for a response as she turns, stepping over the log. She shoves her hands into her pockets and starts the walk back to the cabin, softly humming along to the tune in her head. Regina is looking for her and whether he follows or not, he is no longer her priority.

Regina is waiting when they emerge from the forest, her arms folded across her chest. Emma pauses, taking in the stance along with the irritated look on her face. When Henry appears at her side, the look immediately softens at the sight of them together.

“Is everything alright?”

Emma bites the corner of her lip and prompts Henry to answer by nudging him with her hip. “Yup,” he replies, nodding.

Regina smiles and her arms fall to the side as she walks forward. “Good,” she says, coming to a stop in front of them. She brushes a hand over his cheek and adds, “I made you something to eat. You’ll want to hurry inside before the others devour everything.”

He nods again and she turns to watch him leave. Her smile falls the second he’s far enough away not to notice should he look back, and she turns to Emma. “I need ingredients. You’re going to help me find them.”

Like she had with Henry, Regina doesn’t wait for a response and simply brushes passed, walking back into the forest. Emma sighs but spins on her heel and, like the obedient puppy she’s beginning to think of herself as, she trails after her mate.

 

* * *

 

 

“Here.”

Kathryn raises her head from the table at her voice and Regina smiles at her in sympathy. Due to the frequent bloodletting, her skin has become deathly pale and the blue eyes Regina remembers are now a dull grey. If Emma hadn’t warned her beforehand about the feedings taking their toll, she’d think her friend was dying.

“It’s a potion witches sometimes drink after depleting themselves of magic,” she explains as Kathryn eyes the glass in her hand. “I’m not a hundred percent certain it will have any effect, but Alessa and Emma both agree that it won’t hurt to try.”

Regina sets the glass down in front of her. “It’s entirely up to you,” she says, understanding her hesitation. Being surrounded by vampires, then being offered a glass of what appears to be a rather thick pint of blood; anyone in Kathryn’s position with even a modicum of sense would be suspicious.

“Thank you,” Kathryn says, her voice hoarse after having spoken very little since the feedings began.

Regina inclines her head and turns to leave. She’s barely taken two steps when Henry materializes to bar her way. He stares up at her, a thoughtful look on his face before he asks, “Can you teach me?” She frowns and he points behind her as he adds, “Potions. Can you teach me how to make them?”

Lips pursed, she hides her surprise and narrows her eyes. “Why?”

“Emma says I need a purpose,” he says matter-of-fact. He bounces on the balls of his feet, hands clasped behind his back. “I can’t hunt, or do magic, or fight, or—”

She holds up a hand and he falls silent. “You could do any number of those things if you wanted to,” she points out. Why he would then choose potions is beyond her, though she imagines Emma has more to do with it than he’s letting on. “If you were to learn to fight, for instance, any number of those with us could teach you.”

He sighs. “Mom, we both know I’m not built for fighting.”

Slowly, she blinks down at him. She snorts at his serious expression. “I suppose not,” she concedes. “Why not learn to cook, then?”

“Everyone here knows how to cook,” he counters and when she gives him her patent deadpan stare, he grins knowingly. “Well… except Ma.”

“Hmm.”

He has all that he needs in order to learn and given the years she’s spent raising him, she knows the necessary reading that would turn most children off won’t be a problem. Teaching him to create potions does have its cons, but the idea of there being two people who know what the hell they are doing might be more beneficial in the long run.

“Down in the basement, you will find a brown, leather-bound book.” She shows him her hand, thumb and forefinger at least three inches apart. “Roughly this thick. It contains information on a wide variety of plants you will need to know. Go and fetch it for me.”

His face lights up and he’s off before she can remind him not to run in the house. She sighs as she turns back to Kathryn, and her smile returns when she sees the glass is now half empty.

Kathryn peers up at her. “You know it’s because he wants to spend time with you,” she comments, the words muffled in the cradle of her arms.

Regina shrugs and pulls out a chair. She had a hunch. She wouldn’t have guessed he wants to spend time with her, so much as Emma has been sticking her nose in again, but she doubts Kathryn will understand the difference. After all, why would a child raised by her, the Evil Queen, be someone who did something he didn’t want to do?

 “More gratitude owed to Miss Swan, I’m sure,” she says, taking a seat at the table. “She is an insufferable busybody when she has nothing better to do.”

Besides showing her how to access and then effectively control her powers, Emma does little in the way of anything productive— unless one counts beating up her brother for the fun of it, in which case Emma has been a busy little vampire.

Kathryn’s mouth twitches. “It’s good to see someone is looking out for you for a change. Lord knows you never do.”

“Don’t you start,” she scowls. The last thing Emma needs is encouragement in her meddlesome ways. Short of learning to control her powers and _suggesting_ Henry accept the current circumstances of his life— which Regina won’t do, even if she could— the only thing that will help him is time, and that is something she now has in abundance.

Not that she doesn’t appreciate Emma speaking to him on her behalf. Emma’s input in the past has proven surprisingly useful in terms of her relationship with Henry. Were he not her son, she doubts she would have the patience to wait for him to come around on his own, but he is, and she does. She is determined to no longer provide him the power he once had over her by begging his attention, and if that means waiting a year, or five, or ten, then that is exactly what she will do.

“Mom,” Henry calls to her as he runs back into the room, the book she’d requested clasped in his hand. “Is this it?”

She nods and beckons him to her with a finger. As he moves up to the table, she takes the book from him and waves over it with her hand before giving it back. She will teach him, but there are some things better left unlearned.

“I shall tell you this once. If you ask me about them later, the lessons will be over before they begin. Clear?” He nods and she continues. “The blank pages you will find now in the book contain information regarding ingredients you should never, at any point, need. I will not tell you what they are. I will not undo what I have done. I will teach you about potions that can help. I will never encourage the learning of those that don’t. Understood?”

Watching his expression transform from one emotion to the next, she expects some form of protest. What she does not expect when he opens his mouth, is for it to close an instant later.

It confuses her, until she hears the sound of a throat clearing behind her. “Miss Swan,” she drawls, leaning back in her seat. “Our son was just informing me of your complete disregard for child labour laws.”

“We’re in the Enchanted Forest,” Emma drawls, the amusement clear in her voice. “I’m pretty sure those don’t exist.”

Regina tilts her head back to look up at her. “And since when were you an expert on what does and does not exist, hmm?”

“Since I started slee—” Her eyes cut to Henry. “Uh dating...” Regina snorts and Emma reprimands her with a half-hearted glare. “Since I started dating the Queen who likes to regale me with stories of little street urchins that spied on the populace for her.”

“If she knew you were giving away her secrets so freely, she might start to reconsider slee—” Regina grins at her scoff and corrects, “ _dating_ you.”

“Nah,” Emma casually dismisses the threat, taking a step that has her stomach pressed against the top of Regina’s head. Regina straightens her neck and bites her lip as arms find their way around her neck.

“I have her wrapped around my little finger,” Emma boasts confidently, then lowers her voice to a murmur and adds, “Among other things.”

“You two are nauseating me,” Kathryn reminds them of her presence.

Regina catches their son’s nod of agreement from the corner of her eye, and smirks. “There are currently three plants in this part of the forest used in alchemy,” she says, dismissing the comment and turning her attention back to him, returning them to the subject at hand. “Identify them without my help, and I will teach you the potions of which each are a main ingredient.”

He frowns, glancing down at the book in his hands. It will take him hours to learn all three, but if she could do it, then so can he. “Can I get a hint?”

Her smirk widens and she answers simply, “No.”

 

* * *

 

 

They’re traipsing through the forest again. Emma doesn’t know why, and Regina has yet to offer up anything even remotely resembling an explanation. The gentle, hypnotic sway of hips encased within tight leather has kept her preoccupied for the most part, but after at least twenty minutes of endless walking, Emma finds herself growing bored. She starts to hum along to the tune in her head. She doesn’t realize what it is at first but as they slowly make their way through the forest to wherever Regina is leading her, the lyrics begin to trickle in to her consciousness, and she starts to smile at just how appropriate they are.

She’s in the middle of the second rendition when Regina stops and slowly turn to her, brow furrowed. “Why does that sound familiar?”

Emma grins. “It was my ring tone for you my second week in Storybrooke,” she replies. Regina had rolled her eyes at her when she first heard it, and continued to do so every time after that. “Wonderland; accurate song is accurate.”

Predictably, Regina rolls her eyes. “If you have time to torment me with that atrocious song,” she says, “then you have time to find me something.”

“If it’s whatever you’ve been searching for since dragging me out here, I would have found it for you thirty minutes ago if you’d told me what it was.” The frown reappears. “What?”

Emma sees the flush and almost misses her mutter of, “I thought I had,” distracted as she is. She stands straighter upon registering the words, and tilts her head.

Another grin spreads across her face. “Well you are… what? 60? 65? Mem—”

Regina shoves her up against a tree, teeth bared in warning. “Finish that sentence,” she threatens, “and I will _end_ you.”

Emma purses her lips to stifle her laughter but her body shakes with it and Regina growls. “I’m sorry,” she says, an outright lie as the laughter follows.

Grabbing her by the chin, Regina’s nostrils flare as she leans in, their mouths no more than half an inch apart. “I am going to destroy you.”

Emma stiffens, not in anger or fear, but arousal. She licks her lips. “Murder suicide,” she murmurs with a chuckle before easily overpowering her and reversing their positions, drawing a gasp. She presses Regina into the tree with the full length of her body, unhindered by the hand that slides to her throat. “How romantic.”

Searching her face, Regina sinks back against the tree, content with what she finds. She had merely been playing, only mildly offended at the mention of her age. Certainly not to the point that she would honestly try to hurt the blonde. “I bet you would have loved doing this when I was still human,” she purrs, fingers flexing with the temptation to squeeze.

“Actually,” Emma argues, pointed teeth made perfectly visible by the strength of her blinding smile. “If I didn’t find the reverse so utterly appealing, I never would have let you do it to begin with.”

Flashing a smile of her own, Regina does squeeze. “I saw what you did,” she says huskily as Emma moans. “To your Sire,” she elaborates and trails fingers along her throat. Emma’s eyes darken and it sends her stomach aflutter. “The blood… the strength…”

She shudders, recalling the memory vividly as Emma’s smile turns mischievous. “That explains why you were so eager to be pinned down and taken,” Emma says, the remnants of her amusement surrendering to the unabashed lust rolling through her.

When Regina doesn’t deny it, Emma reaches for the hand at her throat at the same time she captures the one hanging at Regina’s side. She captures both, lifting them up and over Regina’s head as she bridges the small gap between them. “You do seem to have a thing for my more…” She pauses to nip at her lower lip before she finishes, “barbaric nature.”

“I used to think I was subtle about it,” Regina admits and Emma laughs.

Regina closes her eyes, allowing the sound to wash over her as it ignites the heat in her stomach. She joins in a moment later as the words repeat themselves in her head, realizing how absurd the thought had been. If she’d been subtle at all, then the positions they found themselves in after she’d been confronted by Emma’s so-called ‘barbaric nature’ had given her away every time.

“I find it flattering,” Emma confesses when their laughter dies down. “Having someone who accepts every part of me, no matter how…”

Regina raises a brow, smiling as she offers, “Barbaric?” Emma nods. “I imagine, then, you have some idea as to my own feelings in regards to you and your acceptance of me. It is beyond flattering, however.”

Emma continues nodding. “It is,” she agrees. “It is. I’m not good with words. You know that.” Regina nods this time and frees one of the hands still held captive, bringing it to her cheek. Emma sighs and leans into it. “I thought this was going somewhere entirely different.”

Regina chuckles and with a tug, brings their mouths together. Emma hums, releasing her other hand as she grabs her hips and melts into the kiss. As the hands slide around to her back and begin their slow descent, Regina pulls back with a smirk. “I take it this is what you had in mind?”

“Close,” Emma admits, stealing another kiss before she grazes teeth over her jaw and brings her mouth to an ear as she adds, “You were wearing a lot less clothes in my mind.”

Regina grins slyly. “I can see how this might be disappointing in comparison,” she says, placing a hand on her chest and shoving her back. Emma makes a face somewhere between a frown and a pout. “In case it’s slipped your mind, I did say we were out here for a reason.”

Emma huffs. “A reason you still haven’t shared,” she reminds her. “Forgive me for forgetting something I didn’t even know.”

”You’re forgiven,” Regina teases, pushing from the tree. She brushes her hands down her body, smoothing out any wrinkles before she looks back up and meets the still slightly dilated gaze of her lover. “Be sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Thoroughly unimpressed and with an air of boredom, Emma asks, “What are we looking for?”

“A flower,” she replies, brushing passed and leading them deeper into the forest. “It is similar in appearance to that of the snapdragon variety.”

Emma waits for the more she assumes is coming but when the silence between them drags on and she realizes Regina has no intention of providing more information, she sighs. “How do we tell them apart?”

Sensing her obvious frustration, Regina smiles to herself. “For one,” she starts, “it is rare and will not be found in groups as one might snapdragons. For another, it has no variety of colours beyond its original of blue and white…”

Emma grunts at her pause, unintentionally causing the smile to grow wider as she adds, “If neither of those assure you, then this is the Enchanted Forest, and that particular flower does not exist within our realm.”

“You could have led with that.”

“I could have,” she admits, now beyond amused that it seeps into her voice. “But then I’d have missed hearing that note of exasperation in your voice and, as you know, your annoyance tickles me so.”

“In other words,” Emma drawls, not amused in the least. “You didn’t lead with that because you’re an ass.”

Regina stops, grinning as she turns back to her. “Something like that.”

Emma rolls her eyes, resigned to being teased and having to ask questions if she wants to know anything about what it is they’re doing. “Why are we looking for this flower?”

Regina nods, happy she’s caught on. She resumes their search through the forest as she explains, “Crushed into a fine paste, and in addition to a few common ingredients I already have, it makes a rather potent poison.”

Emma frowns, at least ninety percent certain she’d heard wrong. “I thought you weren’t teaching Henry—”

“I am not,” Regina quickly cuts her off. “You were wielding a sword in the memory I saw, I assume that means you know how to use one. The fastest way to administer this poison is through the blood. Added to the edge of a blade, and it will render its victim helpless within seconds, human or creature. We are looking for _you_ , not Henry.”

“Well unless you’ve somehow stashed it somewhere in those pants of yours,” Emma says, “I don’t have a sword.”

“The only thing allowed in my pants is you, dear.” Emma coughs to cover a laugh that escapes anyway. It sounds more like choking thanks to the attempt but Regina mentally pats herself on the back and quietly preens. Emma had insisted she was incapable of maintaining a bad mood when in her presence, but even so, it was always fun to let her try.

“You’ll recall prior to my being run through by Maleficent...” The growl that sounds behind her forces her to stop once more. It isn’t the type of growl she is used to hearing from Emma. In fact, if she didn’t know Emma would be able to sense them, she’d think that perhaps one of the wolves was following them and had just given themselves away.

When she turns to confront Emma, however, she realizes that is neither wolf nor her words that caused the growl a split-second before all hell breaks loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. It's a cheap cliffhanger. I didn't really want to do it, but like with smut, I have to be in a particular mood to write an action scene and I figured a fairly predictable cliffhanger was preferable to another two week wait for an update.


	36. Chapter 36

Emma could hear the footfalls. To a human they would have been silent, indistinguishable from her own, but to Emma, they were loud. Too loud. She knew Regina’s walk. Knew her own. There was no doubt in her mind that someone was following them. Despite how careful they thought they were being, Emma sensed them within seconds and the growl that escaped had been building ever since.

_Stay back._

_Leave._

_Mine._

When Regina turns, Emma locks eyes with her and flashes a confident grin before they’re attacking her from behind. She recognizes them both by scent alone but doesn’t give the fact any thought beyond it. Avoiding teeth and claws at her back, she rushes forward, picks Regina up, and _runs_. Fighting is never her last resort but in this, she isn’t thinking about herself.

“What are you doing?” She hears the whisper. Relishes the warm breath against her ear. Smiles. Next to fighting, running is what she does best.

“Giving us a little time,” she whispers back. A minute, maybe two. She is fast, faster than the others. Always has been. “When you’re ready.”

Regina nods, a wisp of her hair brushing beneath Emma’s chin. “Okay.”

Emma runs, leading the would be ambush further away from the cabin. She dodges trees with the same speed she catapults over their rotted trunks, leaves and twigs crushed beneath her boots. Regina’s arms tighten around her neck and Emma turns her head, kisses her, nearly trips, and laughs.

They break through into a clearing. “Now,” Regina murmurs and Emma jolts to a stop, releasing her. The hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention and she smirks, turning as their pursuers burst from the trees.

 Emma rushes one and takes him off his feet with the impact of her shoulder connecting with his stomach. She hears the other shriek before the smell of burnt flesh fills her nose, and she smiles cruelly. One day soon she will remember to ask Alessa to teach her how to protect herself against magic.

Her attacker; Matthias, she names him. Her eyes narrow as he picks himself up from the ground. He looks starved, feels weak, sounds… wrong. She hits him when he laughs and her fist connects with his jaw, shatters it, sends him reeling. She frowns. A fledgling could have dodged that punch. He should be stronger, quicker but his movements are sluggish almost as if—

At the last possible second, she bats his hand aside, twisting her wrist to capture his and crushing it in hand. He uses her hold as a distraction and kicks out. Emma growls as his foot connects with her knee and she drops, releasing him and catching her weight on the opposite knee. She grabs his leg when he tries to pass her, returns the favour tenfold and breaks her hand in the process. He laughs again, tries to rise only to scream as he hits the ground a second time. She stares down at him, confused as he writhes about in pain before she remembers.

Regina.

Forgetting her pain, she quickly gets to her feet. Her knee protests, buckles. She hisses down at it and it rights itself as she spins in place. Her eyes widen in time with the swing of a sword and a head goes flying, a fountain of blood spraying from the neck as the body falls to the ground.

Her mouth dries. Regina grins, dashes forward and touches her cheek with a bloodied hand. The ache in her knee and knuckles dull and Emma breathes in deeply. Magic. It is rare for her to let Regina heal her like this, but the feeling beneath her skin is warm and comforting, her tongue heavy.

When the hand falls and takes it all away, her eyes snap open. She grabs Regina’s wrist, catching the sword mid-stroke and prying it from her hand. “Not yet,” she says, pinning Matthias to the ground as she plunges the sword into his stomach and through his spine.

He jerks, another scream ripping from his throat. She dismisses him and turns back to Regina, noting her scowl. “He might be able to tell us where the others are,” she reasons but the scowl deepens.

“He hurt you,” Regina hisses, in her face in an instant. “No one but _me_ is allowed to hurt you.”

“What Michael and I do on a regular basis is hardly pillow fighting,” Emma teases and reaches for her, curling a hand behind her neck. “And when exactly have you ever hurt me, hmm?”

“That is highly beside the point,” Regina murmurs, cheeks warm all of a sudden. She looks away and down, eying the man still writhing on the ground at their feet. “Won’t he heal?”

Nodding, Emma replies, “I severed his spine. It will take time, but only if he can remove the sword which… I don’t think we need to worry about.”

“Oh?” Regina questions, only half paying attention as the man’s groaning continues on unhindered by their conversation. She flicks her wrist and silences him.

“I was… distracted,” Emma admits and at her raised brow, explains, “My knee. It was a lucky shot. He’s weak. It’s as though he hasn’t eaten in months.”

“You think they’ve been following us this entire time?” Regina frowns at the thought. It is not one she wants to entertain, not when it could mean there are more of them lurking about somewhere nearby.

Emma shrugs. “That’s one possibility,” she says, though it isn’t the one she’d come up with.

Regina tilts her head, her patience clearly growing thin the longer they stand there doing nothing. “You have another?”

“He’s been drained. He’s the youngest, so it makes sense.” Emma glances down at him and shakes her head. _This_ is why Regina needed a thrall. She never would have let her drain her to such extent and she was able to replenish herself on others, but still. “If the wards you put up before we left stopped the others from getting their hands on any more humans, then their options to feed are limited.”

“Animals?” Regina offers the alternative but Emma shakes her head.

“No,” she says. Definitely not. The Elders would rather feed on their own than resort to animal blood. “Think of it like; you’re a Queen. You’re used to the finer things; pheasant, duck…”

“Swan,” Regina supplies during her pause.

Emma’s face contorts, one part surprise, another part disgust. “Weird, but sure. Point is, they think of themselves as royalty. To them, all animals are the equivalent of rodents. Expecting them to drink animal blood is a bit like expecting a Queen to eat a rat.”

“But eating each other is—” Emma snorts and Regina rolls her eyes. “Sometimes I forget you have the mental maturity of a five-year old.”

“Six,” Emma corrects, poking her tongue out. “Anyway, yes. We are… vaguely magical due to the whole cursed pseudo immortality. Our blood is more filling, just like witches. I guess fairies, maybe imps too? I dunno. Anything magical, you can be sure most nightwalkers will feed from that long before an animal.”

Recalling Michael’s comment in the cave the day Whale was killed, Regina asks, “Is that why you hate pig’s blood?”

Emma grimaces. “No. That is thanks to Neal and the months I spent having to drink it after I drained him because I didn’t have a thrall.” She shrugs. “I have nothing against animal blood. Sometimes when I was catching bounties, I’d end up in the woods— the mountains. One time I ended up stranded in a desert and had to bury myself in the sand. That was fun, and out there, you can’t really afford to be picky.”

“I thought you were insane when you told me you were a bounty hunter,” Regina confesses, smiling softly. “Now I know I was right.”

“It beat sitting on my ass all night bored out of my mind,” Emma replies, looking around at where they are. “We still searching for that wannabe snapdragon flower?”

“Yes.” Regina frowns. “Why?”

Emma points over her shoulder just off to the side. Regina turns, squinting. “I don’t… oh.” She moves, too quick for the naked eye to catch.

Emma returns her attention to Matthias and considers her options. She doesn’t want to kill him, not yet. She might even leave that pleasure to Regina, but she doesn’t want to spend the rest of the night in the middle of the forest babysitting him either. Clucking her tongue, she grabs the hilt of the sword and jiggles the blade. His mouth opens but nothing comes out, and she smiles before yanking the sword free.

In a voice that screams danger, Regina questions her from behind. “What are you doing?”

One finger raised in the universal sign for wait, Emma kneels beside him and firmly grips his head. He blinks, lips parting as if to question her before a loud crack echoes through the forest and his expression freezes. “Giving us more time,” she explains as she stands. She holds up the sword and tilts her head. “This mine?”

“Not yet,” Regina replies, taking it from her. “Once I’ve placed a few enchantments on it, as well as the poison, then and only then, will it be yours.”

Emma nods before she bends down and grabs both of Matthias ankles. She’s almost to the edge of the clearing, dragging his corpse behind her when Regina calls out to her.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.” Where else?

“With him?”

Amused by the note of incredulity in her voice, Emma chuckles. “Yup,” she shouts, vanishing into the trees with him.

If Regina is wrong and the poison doesn’t work on their kind, then she can always snap his neck again.

* * *

 

Surprisingly, their return and, consequently, the man Emma had thrown over her shoulder after he caught on one too many snags while begin dragged through the forest, aren’t discovered until Emma has propped him in a chair, much like one might a battered and broken doll. The rather loud, repetitive thumps on the stairs announces Michael’s descent into the basement and when he questions them on the quote—  piece of shit, unquote —they’d brought back with them, Regina leaves Emma to explain what had happened while she goes about concocting the poison they will need.

While she hadn’t really seen the sense in bringing him back rather than doing away with him back in the clearing, she has to admit to being far more comfortable in their new temporary home. If this man Emma calls Matthias is truly weakened to the point Emma insists he is, then even were he to recover before the poison is ready, he shouldn’t pose too much of a threat to them, let alone another nightwalker slash witch and three werewolves.

“Holy shit, that’s hot.” Concentration shattered by the exclamation, Regina’s head whips around and she glares at the wolf. Michael grins sheepishly. “Sorry, but I gotta say, my future sister-in law is a bad ass. Elijah was a douche, just in case you were feeling at all bad about his… you know… head.”

“I wasn’t,” she deadpans, filing away the rest of what he’d said for later. “Make yourself useful and see that no one else comes down here to disturb us.”

“Can I at least tell them what happened?”

She motions him away with a dismissive wave. “Do whatever you wish. Simply do it elsewhere.”

“Of course, my Queen,” he drawls with a mock flourish.

Emma snickers softly, drawing one’s curiosity and the other’s ire to herself. She shrugs and offers Regina an apologetic look before she reminds her brother, “You joke, but if you’re staying with us, then she kind of is.”

“I most certainly am not,” Regina protests, immediately outraged by the claim. “I am _your_ Queen, I am _his_ Majesty.”

Michael groans but it isn’t him to whom Regina’s attention belongs as she absorbs the sight of Emma nipping her lower lip and appearing suitably contrite for the error. Satisfied and a fair bit smug, she forces her gaze back to the wolf and smirks. “I could have sworn I dismissed you.”

He holds up his hands as if that might stop her from setting him on fire should he linger much longer. “I’m going. I’m going,” he says, backing toward the stairs. “But just to remind you both; there is an unconscious vampire present, so you might wanna hold off on the whole…”

What comes out of his mouth next is what Regina assumes to be the sound of bed springs in need of a good oiling, and she summons a fireball to hand. He quickly turns and runs the rest of the stairs, fleeing out of range.

Returning to her work, she extinguishes her magic and says, “With influence like that on you as a child, I can see why it might be difficult to let go of your inner five-year old.”

Before Emma can correct her again, she remembers her response back in the clearing and preempts, “Apologies. Your inner s _ix_ -year old.”

Emma says nothing as she comes to stand beside her, but Regina can _feel_ those damn lips taunting her. She refuses to look. Emma being in the same room as her is distraction enough without subjecting herself to that dopey grin of hers. She has every right to be moody or grumpy, or frumpy, or— whatever silly word Emma will likely use to describe the way she is behaving right now. They were just attacked and if Emma is right, then it was most likely due to the fact the Elders are a bunch of semi-cannibalistic psychopaths.

Who wouldn’t be in a mood under the circumstances?

After a few minutes working in silence, she caves under the continued scrutiny as she spares Emma a glance, and promptly rolls her eyes.

Emma, apparently, is the who. That damn grin is going to get them killed.

“Don’t you have something better to do?”

“Hmm,” Emma hums. “Well, around this time we usually pretend to go to bed and then screw like bunnies so… yes, but I don’t see that happening any time soon.”

Regina snorts and dusts the powder from her hands before she slides an arm around Emma’s waist. She nuzzles her jaw, then kisses her cheek and says, “Keep yourself entertained for another twenty minutes, and it might be sooner than you think.” As curious as she is about what information this Matthias might hold for them, the thought of spending some more alone time with Emma is far more appealing.

“Deal.” Emma returns the kiss before she extracts herself from the arm and moves over to the table where Regina had placed the sword upon entering the basement.

Regina sighs and silently mourns the loss despite knowing the space will better her concentration. She glances down to remind herself of what stage she is in and resumes; adding the ingredients she needs, grinding them into a fine dust before setting them aside. As the familiarity of creating potions and poisons returns, she loses herself in her work. Alchemy and cooking share too many similarities for her to ever have truly forgotten how. A combination of muscle memory and an almost perfect recall sees to it that should her mind wander, she can remain confident in the end result.

Her mind does wander, but not too far. It is well passed the point of ridiculous if she thinks about it, which she tries not to more often than she’d like to admit but the truth is, her thoughts of Emma are almost constant. Emma can be standing no more than two feet away, as she is currently, and Regina will have this sudden urge to drop everything and find her.

Given such a thing reminds her of those two insufferable morons they’d left behind, it is a feeling that frustrates her no end and at some point during their eventful and, hopefully, long life, she is going to have to figure out how to be apart from Emma for more than a few minutes without it feeling as though she’s missing one of her limbs.

Fortunately for her, though twenty minutes becomes more, time passes quickly, as does the process. Regina is in the middle of ignoring her pitiful yearning and waiting for everything to brew when she hears the telling click of steel returning to the table and, scant seconds later, feels the arms wrapping around her from behind. She sinks into the solid warmth at her back and rests her head back against a shoulder with a content, if mildly exasperated, sigh.

The one good thing about the abhorrent feeling is that she isn’t the only one who feels it.

“Almost done?”

Regina nods before she turns her head and buries her face in Emma’s neck. “A couple more minutes,” she murmurs. Then Emma can impale Matthias with a poisoned blade and she can take them to their room and make good on her promise.

“Good. These pants are a crime against my self restraint.”

To comfortable to even pretend she doesn’t find Emma hilarious, Regina laughs against her neck. The idea of the pants she wore came to her when she was trying to decide how best to get her revenge on Emma for saddling her with Red. The former waitress is barely tolerable at the best of times and she is far too talkative. She can see why the woman is friends with Snow White. They are living proof that opposites attract isn’t always wholly accurate, at least not in terms of friendship. She’s happy to know her idea had worked, not that she’d thought for a second it wouldn’t.

It takes a moment, but when she realizes one of Emma’s hands have strayed and now rests deliberately on her backside, she straightens, plucking the beaker from above the flame where it rests as she bends over the table a little more than necessary and presses herself more firmly into the touch.

Taking the invitation for what it is, Emma runs both hands over the cheeks of her ass before cupping and squeezing.

“Careful, dear, we’re not quite done yet.”

Emma chuckles, hands sliding back to hips as she brings their lower halves together. “No one is forcing you to tempt me,” she says lightly.

Regina wiggles her backside, and smirks when she hears the hitch of breath. “Your very existence forces me, my love.”

Another chuckle and hands caressing up and down her sides, Emma teases playfully, “Sorry for existing, my Queen, but I’m afraid it can’t be helped.”

“Nor would I want it to,” she admits, smiling. “Hand me that dagger on the table,” she says, pointing behind her in the general direction of the weapon. “Once I’ve coated it in this and you’ve stabbed our friend with it, I do believe I promised to reward your patience.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious question because I can't decide. Do you want me to just get on with it, or do you want the next logical scene AKA smut. I know it's been awhile for this story, so it feels like time for one of those, but I'm also aware that I tend to prolong things due to my distaste for endings. I'm not saying there will be an end too soon into the future, but I will get there faster without more smut. I don't mind either way so... like I said, I can't decide.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had this sitting on my computer for months, untouched and unchanged. I didn’t share it because I hate it, but it’s taking me far too long to finish it to a standard that makes me happy, so… I concede defeat.
> 
> You don’t get the smut I promised. It’s not the end and there’s probably still time for that but I want to move on from this part and the only way I can do that is if I put it behind me. It wasn't worth the wait, but it is what it is.

Emma waits until Matthias stirs before she slams the dagger into his thigh. His mouth opens in a silent scream and his body starts to convulse as the poison swiftly enters his system, his skin growing paler and more sickly beneath the basement light.

When it’s time to test the poison’s effects, Regina nudges her aside. There is little way of knowing whether it works or not without the cooperation of the victim. He could pretend, feign helplessness until a moment in which he can catch them off guard.

Attack or run.

Fight or flight.

Thanks to her childhood and days of being the Evil Queen, she is well versed in how to induce one or the other without his cooperation.

Removing the silencing spell she’d placed on him earlier, she demands, “Speak.”

His eyes flutter open. Beyond blinking, it will be the only thing he can do if the poison works unless she concocts an antidote. Since he’d attacked them, she has no intention of wasting the ingredients.

His lips don’t so much as part in an attempt to obey her, however, and she nods, having expected as much.

They are never willing at first.

She holds her hand out in front of her, palm up towards the ceiling as she slowly curls her fingers inward.

Within minutes, pain etches its way across his face and she flexes her fingers, offering only the briefest glimpse of hope in the form of cold, soothing relief before sending another pulse of what she knows feels like molten lava surging through his veins.

He doesn’t move. Not a twitch.

She is almost impressed.

“Stop,” he croaks and she smiles.

Almost.

She closes her fist and steps aside. “Your turn, dear.”

Emma moves back into place and tilts her head. It is only a matter of seconds before she has systematically broken through, shattered, and crushed the barriers around his mind but she pulls back at the last.

Reading his thoughts and reliving his memories would be the best way to find the truth, but not the most efficient as she would need to search through decades, if not centuries of memories, for which she has neither the time nor the patience.

The point of the exercise though has been made. He may appear as though he wants to rip them to shreds, but the poison works. “He can’t move,” she says, stepping back. “No member of the Council would have let me get that deep.”

“Good,” Regina replies. “But just to be safe,” she adds, waving a hand over him. “A stasis spell. It will break in about an hour, but by then it’ll be morning and we shouldn’t need to worry about him before tonight.”

At least, that is her hope. After the day they’ve had, she isn’t in the mood to do anything more with him.

Besides, she has a promise to keep. “Come,” she says, taking Emma by the hand and leading her from the basement.

They don’t make it very far without having to field a few questions first. _Who is he? Did he really attack you? Did Regina seriously go all samurai and lop a dude_ _’s head off?_ The last is from Red and they both laugh, surprised that she seems more intrigued than judgmental, as one might expect from the supposed best friend of Snow White.

All in all, their friends aren’t entirely unbearable in their want for answers. When they all eventually wander off, their curiosities sated for the time being, Regina seals the basement door to prevent anyone from disobeying her and going near him before she drags Emma off to their room.

Once inside, she pins Emma to the wall, one hand cupping between her legs while the other slides up over a shoulder and around her neck.

“Now,” she purrs. “I was preoccupied at the time and unable to follow through, but I seem to remember a certain threat I made in the forest.”

Emma chuckles, arms loose as she slips them around her waist. She remembers the threat well. “Are you going to destroy me now?”

Regina hums in the affirmative. She leans in and Emma moans as her bottom lip is taken between teeth. Regina bites down hard, tugging until skin splits apart and the coppery tang of blood fills their mouths.

Emma pulls back and runs her tongue along her lip, then grins. “If this is what you meant about being the only one allowed to hurt me,” she says, lifting her back from the wall as she lowers her voice. “You’re going to need to do better than that.”

Regina growls playfully and pulls her completely away from the door with the hand around her neck. She spins them, using both hands to shove her back towards the bed. Emma continues to grin, stopping with each shove and forcing Regina to keep pushing until her knees meet resistance. She grabs the hem of Regina’s blouse as she hits the bed, fisting it in her hand and yanking.

With an undignified sound, Regina stumbles forward and falls straight into her lap. She looses another growl but upon catching the look of innocence Emma wears, a warm rush of laughter escapes her mouth and she surges forward.

“I am feeling very destroyed right now,” Emma murmurs against her lips, fingers threading through her hair. “Ow. No pulling.”

Biting, scratching, spanking— hell, she’ll take a few punches if need be, but hair pulling is a definite no.

“Then shut up,” Regina says, bringing the hand to the front of her neck. “We are here to fuck, not talk.”

Emma hums in response and presses into the hand, teeth bared. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Regina snarls, grabbing her throat. She shoves Emma down, keeping her grip tight as she uses her other hand to rip through the shirt barring her from all that beautiful, pale skin.

Faced with the lace of her bra, Regina tears through that too, satisfied only when her hungry gaze lands on twin mounds of tender flesh and her lips wrap around a rosy tipped peak. Emma moans and arches into her mouth, the sound vibrating against her hand. Regina squeezes in warning when she feels Emma shift, not needing her powers to know the thought running through her lover’s mind.

In most instances, Emma is eager to give up her control but at times like this, when Regina is almost feral in wanting, something dominant rises up in her Princess that is difficult to put back down unless threatened.

Dragging teeth across a nipple, a growl rumbles in Regina’s throat and she bites down. Emma moans even louder as her hips jerk, sending a wave of heat straight down to Regina’s sex.

Her fangs penetrate flesh without thought but Emma’s excited gasp only encourages her and she starts to suckle, sweeping their thoughts of all but each other from their minds as they lose themselves to the haze of blood and lust.

 

* * *

 

Sex intermingled with sleep and the occasional, quiet moment in which they simply talk carry them through the morning and afternoon. They don’t emerge from their bedroom until close to sunset and when they do, Alessa is waiting for them. “What have you done with Matthias?”

The two share a look, brows rising in surprise. Regina takes Emma’s hand and turns, beckoning to Alessa with the other as she leads them both over to the basement door.

As they descend, Emma explains to her about the attack and how they’ve rendered him harmless. She can plainly see that for as long as she speaks, the more disturbed Alessa becomes.

Standing over the unconscious man, Alessa sighs and shakes her head. She reaches down and yanks the dagger from his thigh before either of them can stop her. “What the hell are you doing?” Emma growls, snatching the dagger from her hand.

“Wait,” Alessa snaps and Emma freezes, nostrils flaring as she glares at her. Alessa sighs, a tired sort of desperation lacing her tone when she adds, “Please.”

Clenching her jaw, Emma lowers the hand poised above the man’s leg. She steps back, more confused than anything as she watches Alessa fall to her knees. “Matthias,” she whispers, “where is Lorraine?”

“Lorraine?” Emma repeats. “Who the hell is Lorraine?”

“My wife,” he slurs. He blinks up at them slowly, noting their surprise before his chest heaves and he lets out a faint laugh. “They bound her to a stake in the courtyard and made me watch as she burned to death.”

“Why?” He grunts and Regina scowls at the non-answer.

“Mattie,” Alessa says gently, ignoring them as she grasps his hands in hers. “What happened?”

His eyes seem to stare right through her as he speaks. “A woman came to the compound in Atlanta after we returned from Boston. She told us our plan wouldn’t work and as soon as the curse broke, Storybrooke would disappear along with everyone who was inside. She said she knew of another way, then offered to tell us but only if we agreed to take her with us.”

Anger contorts his face but it doesn’t stay, fading back to an expression of blank indifference. “As the meeting was ending, she revealed a traitor among us, told the Council all about how they sabotaged every attempt the Elders had made to return here.”

“Lorraine?” Regina guesses but the pained look he gives is as telling as the shake of a head.

“Me.”

“I am sorry for your loss,” Alessa murmurs, squeezing his hands. “I know how much she meant to you.”

“I should have told her,” he continues as though he hadn’t heard her. “I should have warned her. She probably would have left me, but at least then she’d still be alive.”

“He did it for you,” Emma says in realization as she watches Alessa deflate before their very eyes.

“Yes,” she admits softly.

“When you revealed yourself back at the castle,” Regina says, arriving at the same conclusion as Emma, as near as she can tell. “You said you sensed the Elders, but what you really meant was you sensed him… You’re his Sire?”

Alessa nods as she rises to stand. “He assisted in my escape. I knew they would think of this place eventually.” She looks to Emma and asks, “Where else could I have gone if I was nowhere to be found in the other world?”

“You didn’t think to mention this?”

“Do their reasons for being here matter? It is no secret that they want to kill me,” Alessa counters, turning to Emma. “I imagine by now, they want to kill you too. You want them just as dead, does knowing any of this change that?”

“No,” Emma admits. It doesn’t. Having the Council here is a risk she isn’t willing to simply ignore, but what also doesn’t change is the fact Alessa should have had the decency to tell them. “It does make me question whether or not I should trust you.”

“I would like to know about this other woman,” Regina interjects, taking Emma’s hand to still any thoughts she might be having about trying to harm Alessa. She doesn’t disagree with Emma, but if this woman knows of the Enchanted Forest then there is a good chance she might know her. “Did she provide a name?”

Matthias sighs and finally deigns to answer her. “No, though I was under the impression she’s looking to be turned. She’s old, for a human. I sensed magic in her, but whatever power she has doesn’t seem to be enough. I think what we are— our abilities appeal to her.”

Regina nods. If there is a reason to willingly become one of them, then power is as good as any and one she herself can relate to. Unfortunately, she knows far too many who would agree with her and if this person is someone she might know, then she’ll need more than a hunger for power to figure out who. “What did she look like?”

“Old, as I said. Reddish-brown hair, brown eyes.” He pauses as though thinking it over before he adds, “She walked and spoke as if she were—”

“A Queen,” Regina interrupts, her throat constricting around the word as her voice deepens in anger.

“You know her.”

“The woman you describe sounds like my mother,” she admits, almost certain of it. Of course every second of worry, frustration and misery she has suffered since she arrived can be traced back to her mother. The woman thrived on being able to ruin her life. It comes as no surprise that even in death, she continues to exert her influence.

His lips twitch. “You must be the ungrateful child she spoke of,” he drawls, baring his teeth in amusement.

The comment only cements her belief. The number of times she can remember her mother using that phrase while she ranted about everything she’d done, that she’d done it for Regina, for her power, for her safety.

Always for her.

Always a lie dressed up as a mother’s love.

Love; another word she used often in her laughable attempts to convince Regina everything she did to her was for her. Just as quickly, she would turn around and claim love a weakness. Not only was her mother the most toxic woman she’d ever had the displeasure of knowing, but she was a hypocrite of the highest order who would give even Snow White a run for her money.

 “That would be me,” she says with a sigh as Emma squeezes her hand.

“Your mother is...” He trails off, but the sentiment is clear.

Cora was demented.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she assures him as she releases Emma’s hand.

 She moves across the room to start working on an antidote for him. After this, she doesn’t think Emma intends to kill him, and even if Emma does, she doubts Alessa will allow it

As she gathers the ingredients she’ll need, Alessa questions, “Is she going to be a problem?”

Regina stills before shaking her head. She could have been. “Not any more.”

“Oh?”

“Regina took care of her on our way to rescue Henry,” Emma explains when she remains silent.

“We had wondered where she disappeared to,” Matthias comments. His eyes fall to Regina as he adds, “Thank you.”

Regina bows her head with a slight smile. She still doesn’t quite know how she feels about her mother’s death. Demented or not, she’d loved her mother to a degree but learning about Cora’s involvement in Henry’s kidnapping and in bringing the Elders here, she feels better about the decision than she had at the time. She doesn’t want to think about what might have happened had she let her live. What Maleficent did to Emma pales in comparison to what Cora could have done given the opportunity.

When no one else speaks, she guides the conversation away from her mother with a question that has been on her mind since he started talking. “The man who was with you— Elijah?”

“I was meant to lead him to her,” he explains, his gaze falling on Alessa before returning to her. “Once he’d confirmed where she was, he was supposed to kill me.”

“But you led him to us?” On purpose? If so, he is smarter than Regina would’ve given him credit for considering how sloppy the ambush had been.

“To Emma,” he corrects and though she assumes he means no offense by excluding her, he quickly explains, “She is… known, to me. I thought she would be the one to kill us. No one accounted for you. We didn’t think she’d ever turn someone.” He tries to laugh but the sound is no more than a wheeze. “I guess we were wrong, thankfully.”

“Indeed,” she agrees, throwing a smile Emma’s way. She hadn’t been ready to give up on life, not when she finally had every reason to live, and she will be eternally grateful for Emma having saved her. “Love, be a dear and fetch Henry for me. If he hasn’t fallen asleep yet, then I have a lesson for him.”

Emma hesitates to leave the three of them alone together but with a small smile from Regina, she nods and does as asked. Regina waits until she hears the basement door open before she turns to Matthias.

“I am going to undo this,” she says, gesturing to his stiff form. “And when it is done, you are going to leave my property. If you,” she adds, preempting any argument from Alessa, “have a problem with it, then you may feel free to leave also.”

“He has done nothing but answer your questions truthfully,” she argues anyway. “Where will he go? Without protection, he will be dead before sunrise.”

“Nothing?” Regina repeats, face and voice clouded in disbelief. “He led one of them here. For all we know, he’s led them all here. Worse than that, he attacked Emma. I don’t care if he did it knowing she would kill them both. His being here is putting my entire family in danger, as are you.”

“And if I do go with him,” Alessa counters. “What of Victor? Michael?”

“The choice is up to them,” she says, shrugging. Leave with the woman who abandoned them, or stay with the woman they abandoned; the decision would be obvious to her. “If you think you can convince them to go with you and leave Emma behind, then by all means, try.”


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My one complaint is that this is too dialogue heavy, but otherwise, eh. We're moving forward... slowly.

_Do you think maybe he could have helped us?_

Regina looks to Red, the girl shifted and sat beside her, and follows her gaze over to the trees where Alessa stands, waiting. She shakes her head, unwilling to concede. Emma and Victor both asked her something similar. They offered her a chance, twice, to change her mind and in this third chance, her resolve remains.

“No,” she answers. She provides the wolf no reason, no excuse and returns her attention to the varied threads that connect the two of them, refusing the question more thought.

What took Emma and Michael almost two years, had taken her and Red mere weeks, the two linked, in sync more than she would ever have believed possible. They share each other’s thoughts and, to a degree, feelings. She can see through lupine eyes, in darkness and in light, for miles and miles ahead.

Her very own wolf, her guardian.

Her interest in such absurdity wanes with every passing day, but her understanding of Emma grows at the same time, enlightened as she learns, not by those who teach her, but by the sensations— the rush of power that flows through her.

Emma’s pride, Emma’s arrogance; if what Emma feels and has felt for the last 9 years is as strong as what she feels and continues to feel throughout their time here, hidden away in their little slice of the Enchanted Forest, then neither are without merit.

Regina has never wanted power for herself. It is as true now as it is every time she tells herself that same tired line. She wanted control, freedom. She wanted to _choose_ , but the kind of power she was offered didn’t provide in a way that ever made her comfortable with it.

This power is something else entirely. She needs no heart to control, her freedom is not pretend nor constrained by invisible chains. She does not choose the things she does because she _must_ but because she _wants_ , because she _can_.

Her decision to exile Matthias, to allow Alessa to follow if she so chose remains uncontested. Emma, Victor, Red; they questioned, yes, but they didn’t argue. Henry, Richard, Michael— they were right; in all this insanity, she has somehow gained a pack. She is a Queen in her own right and with a Queen of her own; a lover who needs no coercion into her bed at night, who smiles as if she is the sun and is content to be burned by her.

For the first time in her life, Regina is whole. She has power, friends, love, and she is _happy_.

_I can hear you thinking._

“Is that not the point?” She retorts, her lips twitching as she peers at the wolf from the corner of her eye. “One would think you’d be happy my mind is no longer hostile to your presence.”

_The lack of headaches is nice, I admit._

“Indeed,” she agrees, no longer struck daily by the pitiful wounded expression Red would wear upon returning to human form. She has yet to know her monster, but it would seem her hatred of Snow White, and therefore; her best friend, still runs deep and hot. “Emma believes it under control now.”

_Seems that way._

“Mmm,” she hums, her senses heightened thanks to their connection as she turns her head. “Speak of the devil.”

_Shall I leave you two alone?_

She laughs, the question coy even in her mind. “When is that ever not a good idea, dear?”

By the time Emma reaches her, Red is nowhere in sight and their connection has been severed. Regina smiles, holding her hands out for Emma to pull her to her feet. She instantly finds herself within those arms, staring down into those eyes as Emma lifts her from the ground completely, and she chuckles throatily.

“You’re in a good mood,” she purrs.

“How can I not be,” Emma counters with a grin. “When you look this ravishing, my Queen?”

“Ravishing, hmm?” She bows her head and captures that impish little mouth before Emma can respond, the two of them sighing into the kiss before it ends. “And the real reason?”

Setting her down, the arms stay loose around her waist as Emma shrugs. “Henry.” Regina frowns and she explains, “He gave me that potion he was working on.”

“You took it?” Regina stares at her in disbelief. Like her when she was younger, Henry had already started experimenting. “What if he’d accidentally created a poison that had killed you, and by extension me?”

Again, Emma shrugs. “He’d feel extra bad about it?”

“Emma,” she growls, receiving a roll of green eyes.

“I assumed you’d taken precautions to keep him away from the dangerous stuff,” Emma says, then kisses her on the nose. Regina blinks. “Besides, I feel _awesome_.”

Regina sighs, this one only slightly less pleased than the last. “No more,” she states and admits, “I _did_ take precautions, but I can guarantee nothing, not with any clear certainty. When it comes to Henry and his potions, you _will_ refrain from risking your life. I refuse to die because of your idiocy.”

Grinning, Emma kisses her again, only this time on the mouth. “Whatever you say, my Queen,” she murmurs. She gestures toward the tree line and adds, “He should be there by now.”

Regina nods, letting the arms fall from around her as she returns to her seat on the stairs and waves Emma off. “Go on then.”

Emma didn’t question, but she had made choices of her own.

 

* * *

 

 

Matthias turns when they enter the cave and Alessa gasps. Emma grimaces, averting her gaze from the burns on his face. She has seen what the sun can do to their kind only a handful of times, but each time seems worse than the last and her face twitches at the sight.

Whether through torture or accidental exposure, it is hard to imagine anyone deserving of that kind of pain.

Her skin prickles and her eyes snap back to Matthias a moment before he speaks. “Don’t.”

Alessa holds a hand to his cheek, her brow furrowed as she repeats, “Don’t?”

He inclines his head, fingers wrapping around her wrist as he lowers her hand from his face. He isn’t looking at her, but at Emma. “I failed,” he says. “You all need to leave.”

Emma breathes in deeply, her anger swift.

Regina was right.

She grits her teeth. “You—”

“I didn’t tell them,” he interrupts, explaining quickly. “Elijah and I weren’t as alone as we thought. They sent another. Somehow he’s evaded your wolves at night. He evaded _us_. They’re getting closer. You need to move. They’ve _fed_ and they’re stronger here, Emma. ”

“I will not keep running from them,” she snaps. She rushes forward, teeth bared when a hand against her chest stops her from ripping him to shreds.

“He is only warning you, child,” Alessa reasons calmly. “What you choose to do with his warning is up to you. If you want to fight, we will—”

“We?” Her eyes narrow. “He failed, _mother_. If he is to return with us, then it will be his corpse.”

“Emma…”

“No,” she growls, shoving the hand away from her chest. “For all we know _he_ led them here and this is just a story to cover his tracks.”

“Then use your powers,” Matthias counters. He brushes Alessa aside and closes the short distance between them. “Read my thoughts.”

Emma sneers. “And leave myself open to you?”

He shakes his head. “Alessa will—”

“I trust neither of you,” she interrupts, jaw clenching as she steps back. “Regina was right. Your part in this story is done.”

Dismissing them both, she turns on her heel and leaves the cave. She can sense Alessa following her but before she can say anything, Emma is off, making her way through the trees and back to the cabin as fast as she can.

She circles the cabin twice without stopping, eyes and ears searching for something— anything out of place, and finding nothing. She bursts through the trees with a snarl, barely registering Regina’s presence still on the stairs as she blows right passed her.

At the table where Michael, Victor and Kathryn sit, she’s suddenly frozen, glaring down at them while her body refuses to obey her commands.

Regina circles around into her line of sight, brow raised. “Care to explain?”

The spell keeping her in place dissipates with the question, and then she’s down in the basement, Henry staring at her with his mouth agape.

“Ma?”

She ignores him and retrieves her sword from the wall where Regina had taken to hanging it.

Feeling the prickle on the back of her neck, she twists to find Regina stood at the bottom of the stairs and demands, “Stop that.”

Regina glares at her. “Then explain yourself.”

“We need to leave,” she says, rummaging through boxes and cupboards, and coming up empty. “Where the fuck did you put it?”

“This?” Another prickle and her head snaps around. Seeing the vial, she lurches forward and snatches it from Regina’s hand. “Emma—”

“Pack,” she says, halfway up the stairs. “We’re leaving now.”

When she reaches their bedroom, the door closes behind her to signal Regina had followed. She explains before Regina bombards her with questions, repeating verbatim what Matthias had said. She focuses on what little packing they have to do in the silence Regina uses to think.

“How did they feed?”

She pauses with a frown. “I didn’t ask,” she admits seconds later, shrugging.

“Did it occur to you they may have found a way through the wards guarding your parents?” Regina questions.

It didn’t. Who they drained dry had, in fact, not occurred to her at all. “If they did,” she replies, “then I guess that’s one less problem for me to deal with.”

“You don’t care?”

Emma turns slowly to stare at her. “I don’t feel anything for the child that lived inside of me for 9 months, Regina. If you expect anything for the parents who abandoned me, who I can’t stand— who _you_ can’t stand, then you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“I realize there would be no love lost, but—”

“This really isn’t the time for this conversation,” she says and returns to packing.

Who knows how long they have before the Council reaches them. It was already night time when she left with Alessa. They could be hours— minutes from being overrun and slaughtered, and Regina wants to sit and talk about the _possibility_ of her parents maybe being dead?

“Not even a little?”

Sighing, she hangs her head. She laughs softly, humorlessly, as she straightens. She turns again and asks, “Do you feel anything for killing your mother?”

When Regina looks away, she realizes the answer to her question isn’t the one she expects. “Oh.” She frowns because Regina had never _said_ anything. “Well,” she adds. “We can have that conversation as well, just not now.”

She hears a sigh and then, “Where are we going?”

Emma continues to frown, having had no time to think about that either. They can’t stay, that much is clear. She hates running but none of them are prepared for it, not yet, not without a plan.

Regardless of what anyone believes, she rarely walks into any situation without a plan. She’d known Rumple, had known him long before she arrived in Storybrooke thanks to _Neal_ and the memories she’d gained when she killed him. She knew his weakness and exactly what buttons to push.

Rumplestiltskin had been predictable, Maleficent even more so.

Shaking her head of the thoughts, she clears her throat. “Your kingdom. Can we go there? Will it be safe?”

“I would assume so,” Regina replies, though Emma senses her hesitation and peers at her over a shoulder. Regina chews her lower lip thoughtfully before she suggests, “I can check, if you like.”

“You mean displacement?” She inclines her head and Emma nods. “Is it far? Will it take long?”

“A few minutes, at most. The wards I placed around the palace should tell me if anyone has gotten through.”

“Alright,” Emma concedes. She doesn’t like the thought of separating them, but if they run from one danger only to end up in another, then she would be forced to kill _herself_ for that stupidity. “You go do that. I’ll get the rest of these lot ready to move.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Regina appears inside her throne room, the last thing she expects is the sword at her throat. She follows the length of the blade to a leather-clad arm, head tilted as her eyes settle on an unfamiliar face.

She smiles slowly. “Now is that any way to greet the woman whose home you’ve decided to invade?”

The woman’s brows rise simultaneously, her surprise clear. “ _You_ are the Evil Queen?”

“Indeed,” she admits, “though I prefer Regina these days, if you don’t mind.”

“And if we do?”

Her eyes drift to the man stood at the woman’s side, a frown creasing her forehead. “Hmm. Her I do not know but you… I recognize you,” she says, the night she’d met him once before coming back to her as she looks him up and down. “Lancelot, is it not? Did King Arthur finally notice you lusting after his wife and banish you?”

She raises her chin with a smirk, the tip of the sword piercing her flesh just deep enough to be a warning. She wrinkles her nose and teases, “Touchy subject, is it?”

He scowls as the woman spits, “King Arthur and Lady Guinevere are dead.”

“Ah. _Very_ touchy, then.” She places a finger against the blade and carefully pushes it an inch or two away from her throat. “May I inquire as to how, or shall we dispense with the pleasantries and skip straight to the part where I kill you both?”

“A bold claim for someone wi—”

With unnatural speed, she brings her hand down on the woman’s wrist and sweeps the sword up before it can hit the floor.

Behind her now, she purrs, “You were saying, dear?” and bounces back on her heel, grinning as the woman pivots to face her, her expression one of dawning horror as she cradles her hand.

“You are one of them?”

“ _Them_ ,” Regina repeats, her curiosity piqued. Sensing movement, she raises the hand with the sword and points it at Lancelot. “I hear tell the Knights of the Round Table are of intelligent stock.”

Meeting his glare, she smiles sweetly and adds, “Now is hardly the time to prove such rumours false.” When he swallows and dips his head forward, she turns the sword on the woman. “You, what is your name?”

“Mulan.”

Regina snorts before she outright laughs. Naturally, the woman who threatened to slit her throat without so much as a how do you do just so happens to be the one her son adores most of all.

“Of course it is,” she mutters, sighing as she lowers the sword altogether.

Waving a hand through the air, a length of rope materializes behind them and she quickly binds them together, ignoring their protests.

Once they’re bound and she’s confident they won’t be able to escape in the interim, she transports herself back to the cabin and almost collides with Emma.

“Jesus!”

“Not quite,” she drawls, patting her on the backside as she leans in and kisses her on the mouth.

Emma rolls her eyes, though she’s unable to hide her grin. “You were gone a little longer than I thought you’d be.”

“You try talking to someone with a sword held to your throat and see how long it takes _you_.” Emma’s lips part, face twisted in outrage, but another pat to her backside puts a stop to _that_. “Later.” Regina smiles, then gestures to the numerous boxes around the room. “Is this everything?”

“Yeah?”

“Good,” she says, giving another wave of her hand. The boxes disappear and she grins at the thought of Mulan and Lancelot freaking out as they suddenly appear in the throne room.

“Are you going to do that with us as well?”

She hums. She was considering it, but she won’t be able to do it alone. Not all at once, anyway. “Has mommy dearest returned yet?”

Emma frowns at the moniker. “Just after you left.”

“Then yes,” Regina says. She gropes her backside this time and smirks at Emma’s gasp, winking as she breezes passed and saunters outside in search of the older vampire.

 


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, not overly fond of this chapter, but you'll learn some things that weren't all that clear to begin with. It's mostly filler, but there's a bit of plot if you squint. I thought I should get this posted before my inevitable abduction sometime next week on account of the fact it's my birthday on Tuesday and I have a tendency to disappear around this time of year.
> 
> For the record, I doubt this fic has more than another 2 chapters, 3 if I decide to write the epilogue that I occasionally have a stray thought for.

When Regina and Alessa arrive with the last of their group, Henry bounds up to them with a cheek-splitting grin and holds out his hand. Regina eyes the small vial in his palm, likely more suspicious of the glittering orange liquid within than Emma had been.

“Ma said you might need this.”

Stifling the urge to grill him extensively over the potion’s ingredients, she plucks it from his hand and magically removes the cork before bringing the vial to her nose. She inhales deeply, a brow rising as an intimately familiar scent fills her nostrils.

“She gave me some of her blood,” Henry explains and she hums knowingly.

Hypocritical as it probably is considering she’d scolded Emma for this very thing, she tips her head back and downs the contents of the vial in its entirety.

The effects are almost instant, her mind dizzying with the sudden rush to her head as she reaches out and clasps the first thing she finds to steady herself; Alessa’s shoulder. She immediately understands why Emma referred to the sensations as _awesome,_ though she could do without the fuzzy feeling on her tongue.

Unlike Emma however, she also understands the distinct flavors in her mouth and one in particular has her staring down at him, a weight in her gut because _that_ ingredient is one she knows for certain she didn’t possess given the danger involved in obtaining it.

In the past, she had lost a good number of knights to those creatures, and the thought of her child having been anywhere near them leaves her breathless.

“Naga scale?”

The words are little more than a croak and his eyes widen at the same moment a hand rests on her shoulder. “I obtained them for him,” Alessa murmurs. “He explained to me what it was he was attempting to do. I found a small cave of them a short distance from your cabin. He was in no danger.”

Eyes flitting between them, Regina swallows. Henry smiles hesitantly as he offers, “I’m okay, mom.”

Her shoulders relax slightly. Alessa squeezes her arm. “You might want to intervene in that,” she says as Regina follows her gaze, then gasps.

“Emma!” She turns at the sound of her name. “Put her down this instant!”

Emma frowns but she hesitates only for a second before she complies. Mulan, who apparently didn’t think she’d concede so easily, drops to the floor, landing on her backside with a pained grunt that has Regina wincing in sympathy. She didn’t think she needed to specify that Emma should put her down _gently_.

“Emma,” she chides, sighing as the younger woman saunters away from the woman and over to them. “What do you think you were doing just now?”

“Informing our new friend of what happens to those who threaten my Queen,” she states confidently. “And what I will do to her should she do it again. Why, what did you think I was doing?”

Try as she might, Regina cannot stop the smile from forming. “That,” she admits dryly, eyes rolling at her love. “Among other things.”

Considering what Emma had done to both Rumple and Maleficent, she supposes Mulan did get off lightly in comparison.

“Well, I obviously considered killing her,” Emma confirms her silent suspicions. “Might be a waste, though. She seems to want revenge on the Council… more fodder between us and them, right?”

“Emma.”

This time it’s Alessa chiding her and rather than explain herself, Emma merely stares at her with a blank expression. Regina doesn’t need to hear her say it to know what Emma is thinking, the words are clear; don’t speak to me.

“We need to prepare,” she then reminds them both, the expression vanishing as her gaze lands on Henry. “You give her the potion?” He gestures to the vial still in Regina’s hand. “Good. We’re going to need more… you okay for ingredients?”

Henry chews on his lip thoughtfully before he says, “I’ll need more scales—”

Regina doesn’t miss the way his eyes shift to her and back to Emma again as he speaks. She also doesn’t wait for him to finish or for Emma to respond before she growls, “No. You won’t.”

“But—”

Forcing her tone into something resembling calm, she smoothly interrupts again, “I assume you chose the scales for their regenerative properties?” He nods and she smiles at his frown, running a hand through his hair. That his being interrupted irritates him as much as it does her is rather quite adorable. “Then nixus root will suffice. It’s slower but werewolves and nightwalkers can already regenerate— any added acceleration will be minimal at best.”

His frown deepens in consideration before he sighs and says, “That’s not in the book.”

After a moment’s thought, she remembers why. “It is one of the ones I removed because if prepared wrong, then the root can be highly toxic,” she explains before he can question her. “Give me a few minutes to get everyone settled and I will prepare some for you.”

When he nods, she touches his cheek lightly and bends to kiss his forehead. “Do you need help to set anything up?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, Uncle Mike found your old room while he was snooping.”

“Ah.” She smiles, eyes rolling fondly.

She should have guessed Michael would take her absence as an opportunity to explore the palace. The reminder is almost enough to make her miss Storybrooke and the days when she had to threaten him before he would leave her house.

“Well, go and set up while I find your mother something to do that doesn’t involve maiming our potential allies.” She slaps at Emma’s hand when Emma scoffs, entwining their fingers but otherwise ignoring her as she turns to Alessa and says, “Mulan says she was able to get through my wards using her sword, could you see if you can find the parts that are weakened and what needs to be done to fix them? If you can repair them yourself, then it’ll leave me free to oversee the others.”

Alessa nods and claps Henry on the shoulder. “Come along, little one. Let us proceed with our tasks while your mothers… talk.” She throws a grin back at them as she leads him from the room, but another scoff distracts Regina from paying such impishness the attention it deserves and she raises a brow at Emma.

“You just gave her the perfect opportunity to sneak Matthias into the palace when no one is looking.”

“Is there a point somewhere in that observation,” she wonders aloud, “or are you simply stating a fact?”

Emma stares at her, the muscle in her jaw ticking tellingly. “You know?”

“You told me that, for us, losing someone we care about means chipping away at our humanity until we eventually become the monsters others are quick to label us as.” Raising their hands, Regina brushes her knuckles with a kiss. “You can pretend all you like, my love, but I am not as blind as you might wish; she cares for him as a mother would… as the mother you wish she had been to you.”

Releasing her, Regina turns on her heel, almost to the door that will take her to their son before Emma recovers from her surprise and blurts, “Wait!”

She keeps going, mouth quirking as Emma’s shout follows her from the room.

“Regina!”

* * *

 

Retrieving the jar of roots from the box Henry pointed to when asked where they are, Regina uses her increasingly long nails to begin peeling their outer layers while Henry busies himself preparing the other ingredients next to her.

“What’s it like?”

She pauses to glance at him. “What is what like, dear?”

“Being a vampire,” he mutters, shy all of a sudden as he avoids her gaze and begins to fiddle with the many different jars in front of him.

Amused, she teases, “Thinking of joining the ranks?”

His head jerks up, the tell-tale flash of hope in his eyes saying more than he ever could. “Would you let me?”

It is odd, she thinks; how quickly his tune changes when they are alone together. After Maleficent’s death, he had been less eager than she’d thought he’d be to question her about her turning, and about what she, Emma and Alessa are. She had assumed it was because he had even more reason to hate her but in the recent weeks she’s starting to wonder if it might be down to the fact he is no longer under the influence of the so-called heroes known as his grandparents, those who’d rarely done more than hover over him and bad mouth her.

Still, she does wonder from time to time of what might become of him. Will he leave as soon as he is able? Travel the world in search of that elusive _something_ she could never give him? Maybe find his grandparents again and make his new life with them? She and Emma spoke briefly back at the cabin about turning him one day. They agreed that if he ever asked, they would at least consider it.

“When you’re older, perhaps.”

He immediately asks, “How old?”

“Old enough to have thought it through,” she replies, smiling when she recalls Emma having said something similar to her. “To know the world and all its colour, not simply the black and white.”

“Oh.”

The obvious disappointment in his tone pains her to hear, and she sighs softly, returning her attention to the roots as she says, “One day, my darling, you may think back on this conversation and wonder how it was you ever considered such a thing.”

“But you’re so strong and fast,” he protests and she breathes a laugh as it only proves her point about black and white. He sees the things he considers _cool_ while simultaneously forgetting the less desirable. It is the outlook of a child, definitely not of someone ready to damn themselves to a life on undeath.

“We’re also quick to anger, immortal and forced to drink blood to survive.” His face screws up in a grimace at the last, and she inclines her head. “Exactly.”

They continue their preparations for a while in silence, finding a rhythm soon enough that suits them both as they work around one another; him crushing seemingly random ingredients together while she finishes peeling the last root and sets their remains to boil as needed.

“You didn’t answer my question, you know.”

“Yes,” she admits wryly. She doesn’t know how to explain it to him; the things she feels, the thrill of what she is now, without scaring him off the idea, or off the idea of _her_ entirely.

“Emma explained it once as an…” She hesitates, uncertain she can do Emma justice. Emma had been musing aloud one afternoon after she’d made a comment about the differences she began to notice within herself as time went on. She closes her eyes to try and recreate the moment in her mind, and continues, “— as an evolution of your former self in which your weaknesses are purified and your strengths become stronger.”

“What does that mean?” he asks, her eyes fluttering at the sound of his voice as she looks down at him with a small smile.

“Hypothetically speaking, let’s say we turn you. You are intelligent, creative— sneaky.”

He grins and she ruffles his hair, laughing softly. “As a nightwalker, your mind would be your biggest asset, much like my own is,” she adds. “With the right training, it would be easier for you to exert your influence over others with nary more than a thought, unlike Emma who excels at the more… physical side of things.”

“Does that mean Emma is stronger than you?”

_No._

She smirks at her own thought, her mind as quick and as defensive as ever. “Physically,” she concedes, brushing aside her pride in favour of prolonging this moment with her son.

“Huh?”

He reminds her of Emma in his confusion and she laughs again before she explains, “Some would argue I am the stronger because I have magic and she currently possesses little to no defense against it. Others still would argue her experience puts her light years ahead of me...”

“So which is it?”

“Neither,” she answers honestly and pokes him between the eyebrows, ridding him of his frown as they both grin. “The point I am trying to make, my inquisitive little man, is that we each excel in our own way. Preference wise, I like to think we are equal.”

“Oh.” Despite sounding disappointed, he starts to nod as his mind processes her words. “I guess that’s cool.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I mean, I thought she would be stronger because she sired you.”

She nods, understanding why he would think that. Hierarchies are rarely ever as straightforward as one might think. “Well if that were the case, she’d never have defeated her own sire.”

“I know, I just…”

“You’re logical. You want it all to make perfect sense,” she suggests as he struggles to articulate himself. He nods. “Think of it this way; the life you lead determines who you are when you are older. It’s the same for a nightwalker. Emma has had a difficult life, she has had to be strong; physically, mentally and emotionally in order to survive the horrors of her world. We both have, and we are both stronger because of it. How we survived has shaped who we’ve become.”

She could not fight, not until it was too late and the damage was already done physically and emotionally, but mentally? She outsmarted, manipulated and deceived for over a decade before she got her revenge on those who wronged her whereas Emma had fought for most of her life, closing herself off while striking out at the world.

It is in that moment Regina thinks she understands more than she’d first thought and her breath hitches, eyes widening.

What if the reason Emma doesn’t feel isn’t because she’s a nightwalker, but because that is how she _survives_?

* * *

 

As morning approaches, Emma wanders back into the palace, having checked the perimeter thrice over and then some in her bid to avoid everyone for as long as possible. She had taken the time to consider what Regina had said and in the hours since she’d last seen her mate, she’d come to the only conclusion that made any kind of sense, and that is that Regina is fucking crazy.

She’s mad at Alessa because she keeps defending a man who _attacked_ them, not because she wants a mother. On what planet beyond whatever crackpot planet Regina is living on does that even make sense? She barely knows Alessa, never mind wanting her as a mother figure. All the so-called mother figures she did have growing up abandoned her, why the hell would she want another one, one who has already proven that she is no different from them?

For hours that one question has played on her mind repeatedly, and it is slowly driving her mental.

“Ugh.”

Rounding the corner, she grunts as her body collides with someone else and she raises her head to find out who before she frowns, confused when all that’s there to greet her is an empty space.

Eyes narrowed, she sniffs the air, hoping to scent whoever it was but with all the bodies wandering through the palace during the night, she soon realizes there are too many of them to separate one from any other, and she sighs.

“Great,” she mutters, glancing down at the ring on her finger as she resumes her journey back to the throne room. “I’ve been awake so long, I’m starting to hallucinate solid objects.”

_Right, because that_ _’s an actual thing that happens to anyone._

“Shut up,” she says, scowling before she stops briefly to hang her head and laugh. “And now I’m talking to myself.”

Head shaking at the fact she quite clearly _is_ losing her grasp on her own sanity, she decides this is Regina’s fault. “Couldn’t leave well enough alone,” she mumbles as she pushes through the doors to the throne room.

Looking around, she frowns at the obviously empty room. Taking in a deep breath, she throws her head back and shouts, “Regina!” Spinning on her heel as she the doors fly open behind her, she offers her Queen a cheeky grin and says, “Your palace is fucking huge.”

Relief flashes through chestnut eyes before Regina growls, “The next time you scream my name like that outside of the bedroom and you’re not dying, you damn well _will_ be when I’m through with you.”

Grin falling, Emma bites her lip to keep it at bay and slowly walks forward. Regina grabs her hips as soon as she’s near enough and tugs her the last few steps of the way. “Idiot,” she murmurs and raises a hand, coaxing the lip from between teeth before she leans in and captures it in her mouth.

Emma hums, winding arms around her and running hands along her spine before plunging fingers in her hair as she deepens the kiss. Regina indulges her for a few minutes before she pulls back.

“I think while there is still time, you and I need to sit down and finally have that conversation.”

Emma groans, even less in the mood for it than she had been the day before. What she needs to do is _sleep_ because while she might no longer need to, her brain clearly wants to and at a time like this, she can’t afford to be focused on anything other than the Council. She needs to give her mind a rest for once if she’s to have any hope of ensuring they all survive.

She tries to step away, to create some distance between them but Regina clutches the front of her shirt and stops her cold with a glare.

“We need to talk, Emma.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Anything beyond the Council is irrelevant right now. What might have taken us weeks to get here if we’d walked will take them a day… two at most. This is where we take our stand and stop running, which means you have, tops, a day to learn everything else you can about us and how we work if you want to stop them.”

Nostrils flaring, Regina hesitates briefly before she releases her. Emma takes a step back and smooths a hand down her shirt. “You’ll want to talk to Alessa. She probably has some idea of what we’re up against.”

Regina turns around as she passes her, anger in her voice. “And what exactly will you be doing while I’m chatting with mommy dearest?”

Emma clenches her jaw. “Sleeping,” she bites out, shoving open the doors and storming out into the hall.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have been a teeny tiny bit hasty in my estimation last chapter regarding how much of the story is left. Not by a lot, but I realized there were a few more things I hadn't considered that kinda need wrapping up before we get to the end so... here's that.

The thing about no longer needing to sleep is that there's no guarantee for how long you will. Your brain might need it, but your body doesn't care and once it decides you're up, you're up.

The thing about being in a relationship with someone like you, who experiences this extremely frustrating fact every once in awhile herself is that, more often than not, you can count on her being there when you wake up.

Emma senses Regina long before her eyes open. Regina doesn't rush her. They can depart on good terms, or less than, and Regina will remain patient with her for as long as she can.

"It's been hours."

Sometimes, it's not that long.

"I needed it," she mumbles, pushing herself up. She runs a hand through her hair then down her face, blinking her eyes open in the dim light. "Did you talk to Alessa?"

"Yes." Regina strokes a hand down her back as she says, "She also gave me a few pointers with how to help you defend against magic."

Emma grunts and swings her legs over the side of the bed. While helpful, she won't need it in a fight with the Elders. Later, though. She'll remember after. Assuming they survive.

"Great." She doesn't realize the hand is still there when she tries to stand, and she huffs when she's yanked straight back onto the bed. She sighs, "Regina."

"We have an hour or two before they can even be awake and I have no more lessons to learn." She snorts before Regina concedes, "At least for now."

Nodding, Emma slides back, bringing her legs back onto the bed and sitting back against the headboard. She'd been in a bad mood earlier. They have time. They always have time. "Fine," she says. "What is it you think we need to talk about?"

Regina doesn't answer right away and Emma turns to her, looking at her for the first time since she opened her eyes. She frowns at what she sees. She hasn't seen that mask on Regina's face since the good old days of Storybrooke. Usually it occurred when she failed to leave the house on time and risked burning to a crisp before making it back to her little cabin in the woods.

Her inability to tell time or leave Regina regardless of whether she could tell time or not was the main reason Regina had started spending more time at the cabin. That, and Henry really liked her PlayStation.

Frown deepening as the silence drags on, she asks, "What?"

Regina blinks, snapping from her thoughts. "You know we're cursed."

"Uh, yeah, I distinctly recall telling you that."

She shrugs and suggests offhandedly, "It might be possible to reverse."

Emma shakes her head. She doesn't begrudge Regina the thought. She's had nearly a decade to come to terms with what she is. Regina has only had this un-life for a few months. It makes sense that she might not be entirely resigned to it. "And the point of that would be what?"

"You could feel again?"

"Sure," she chuckles humourlessly, "for the half a second it takes before the bullet lodged in my heart kills me."

When Regina's eyes widen, she closes her own in realization. _Of course_ Regina forgot. It isn't like they ever talked about what happened beneath the library. They'd all been caught up in an abrupt rescue mission and unwanted reunions. After they'd saved Henry and gotten rid of the parents, they were too focused on honing Regina's powers that they hadn't taken the time to sit down and actually discuss— well. _Anything._

Chin hitting her chest, she groans. "You're right," she admits, coming to that inevitable conclusion. "We do need to talk."

"I was merely musing aloud," Regina replies, gesturing dismissively. "I don't actually want to reverse the curse, Emma. Besides, I don't think you fully understand what it is we are."

"And you do?" she retorts. She's had a decade to learn, to _try_ to understand. She sighs again. "I'm going to swallow my pride here and ask what, exactly, is it you think you know that I haven't figured out yet?"

"Don't strain yourself on my account," Regina drawls sarcastically. "I'm fully expecting indignation for my following comments." Emma waves her hand in silent encouragement for her to get on with it. Regina sniffs. "These echoes of yours… I don't think they exist."

Blinking down at her lap as she processes the words, Emma lifts her head after a moment and turns slowly. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You smile. You laugh. You sigh…" Regina pauses to smirk. "An inordinate amount, I might add. Sometimes I look at you and I'm convinced you're about to cry. The more I think about it, the more I wonder if your lack of feelings isn't because you can't feel, but because you choose not to. You said it yourself; when we're turned, our weaknesses are purified and our strengths become stronger…"

Emma scoffs and interrupts, "You think my ability to turn off my emotions at will is a strength?"

"If you don't feel, you can't hurt." Regina meets her stare, expression no longer blank as she looks at her with understanding, eyes soft. "You learned this lesson before you were turned and yes, I absolutely believe being able to do that is indeed a strength. Mental and emotional pain blinds us. It makes us do unbelievably stupid things in order for us to sate the human need to find even a sliver of happiness in this miserable existence."

Letting her head roll back against the headboard, Emma considers it rather than outright dismissing it like she wants to. She hadn't really spoken to anyone about her emotions, or lack of. She mentioned it once or twice to her father and brother but while they know a lot about nightwalkers in general, they don't know everything and it isn't exactly an easy thing to explain to someone who's never experienced it for themselves.

When it came to other nightwalkers, she never really got along with them. Anytime she tried to talk to her Sire, she'd get pitying looks and words to the effect of, "go and bother someone else with your nonsense." If she wasn't killing someone for her, her Sire wasn't interested and _she_ wasn't interested enough in others to even bother them with her questions.

Maybe Regina is right. Maybe it's been so long since she last paid attention to what she might be feeling that she no longer recognizes them for what they are.

"You love me." She tilts her head at this, curious and a little surprised to find Regina closer than she had been before. Emma hums as their lips meet, warmth stirring in the pit of her stomach. "You feel me."

She licks her lips, careful not to head butt her mate as she nods slowly. A hand slides along her jaw and a thumb caresses her cheek. "I know you think it's our bond," Regina murmurs, their lips brushing. "I think it's more."

Bringing their heads together, she continues, "We don't feel with our hearts, my love." She raises the hand, a finger tapping gently against her temple. "It is our minds we need to protect, and I speak from experience when I say you protect yours _very_ well."

Her smile strained, Emma allows the words to sink in. Regina trails the finger down to her mouth and traces her lips. "My theory isn't intended to upset you," she reassures her quietly, kissing her softly. "If you would rather forget this…"

She falls silent as Emma shakes her head. "It's… something to think about," Emma says, lifting her head just enough to return the kiss before she settles back down. "Was there anything else?"

Looking into her eyes, Regina hesitates before she offers a small smile and slight shake of her head. "Nothing that won't wait."

As she takes her hand back and goes to pull away, to get up, Emma grabs her wrist. "Your mother," she blurts, instantly berating herself when Regina's eyes narrow and her expression hardens. "I'm sorry, I just… I didn't forget. I won't pretend I understand given what you've told me about her but I am sorry, you know? I figured you knew what you were doing when you... I didn't stop to think you might—"

"I don't regret what I did," Regina interjects. As Emma frowns at her in confusion, she sighs and explains, "My mother has had a profound influence on my life, most of it bad. It is a relief knowing she can no longer get to me, but there is also… sorrow for whatever chance we might have had to— it makes little sense considering we now know she was assisting the Elders, but…"

"She was still your mother."

Regina nods and Emma smiles softly. She might not understand missing the woman who ruined her life, but she does understand the desire for love, for family.

Or, she used to, at least.

She starts to smile wryly and says, "You can have mine if you want."

The laugh it gets her has her grinning. She releases Regina's wrist and captures her hand, entwining their fingers. Her stomach warms once more with the adoring look Regina gives her.

Smiling, Regina leans in and kisses her again. "I wouldn't wish that woman on my worst enemy," she murmurs, pulling back and squeezing her hand. "But I appreciate the thought."

* * *

 

 

Leaving Emma in the very capable of hands of their overly dramatic son who'd barged into their room not long after they were done talking to complain of starvation, Regina makes her way through the palace to prepare him something for dinner.

She bumps into Red along the way and upon seeing the far off look in her eyes, she throws an arm around the younger woman's waist. Clearly distracted, Red doesn't protest as she's guided around corners and down the stairs leading into the kitchens.

As Regina drops her arm, she brings it up and snaps her fingers. Red blinks, then glances around at where she is, frowning as she meets Regina's amused stare.

"What?"

"You looked lost, dear," she says, turning on her heel. She moves toward the cupboards, rummaging through them as she speaks. "I thought you might appreciate something familiar when you returned from wherever you disappeared to."

It wouldn't do to find out her wolf had wandered up to the roof and accidentally toppled from the parapets, surely.

"I…" Red's frown deepens. "I thought I…"

Regina rolls her eyes, what little patience she has for rambling having run its course with Emma. "Do spit it out."

"I thought I saw something," Red says, then corrects, " _smelled_ something. I tried to track it but when I went outside your wards, it—"

"Not the smartest decision," Regina interrupts, setting the vegetables she'd found down on the bench in front of her. "The wards are there for a reason, or have you forgotten?"

Red sighs. "No, but I figured since it was still daylight, I was fine." She waves a hand through the air and slumps against the bench, pulling the vegetables to her. "It doesn't matter. When I followed it, it just… vanished. I came back as soon as I lost it."

"Hmm," Regina hums thoughtfully, retrieving a knife from the drawer and handing it to her. Giving her the benefit of the doubt and assuming it hadn't simply been some sort of animal Red followed, she questions, "It wasn't familiar?"

"Kind of?" Red shakes her head and looks up at her as she says, "I thought it was Emma at first, but I remembered you saying she went to bed."

"She did," Regina assures her and Red nods, frustration bleeding into her expression. "You said you thought you saw something. If it smelled like Emma, might it have been another nightwalker?"

"No." She hesitates but then states more firmly, "No. It wasn't Alessa, or you. They smelled like magic, but I know your guys scents. This was like magic but not… not magic that belonged to them. Does that make sense?"

"Yes," Regina replies, understanding immediately. It was like a glamour cast by someone with magic but on someone without magic of their own. Everyone has a signature but when casting a spell on another, the signature changes—contorts to fit that person. "You thought it was Emma?"

"Yeah but only for a second. My nose has kind of been off lately," she explains at Regina's curious look. "Even you smell different."

Regina clucks her tongue, thinking. "Who else?"

"No one, except…" She raises a brow. "Henry. His scents been off for a while now."

"Henry," she repeats, brow furrowed before smoothing in realization. "Potions," she declares, snapping her fingers. Henry isn't magic but the potions themselves are. "He's been experimenting. Emma and I both drank one of his potions. Could that be what you're smelling?"

Red tilts her head in thought. "Maybe? I could probably tell you if you—"

Regina flicks her wrist, conjuring one of the few he'd made while they were together. She passes it to Red and the wolf pulls off the stopper as she raises it to her nose.

Red nods after a moment. "It's… not exactly the same—"

"Henry changed one of the ingredients," Regina explains, "but it's similar?" She nods again, giving the potion back. Regina replaces the stopper and sets it on the bench. "So you think you saw someone like us under the effects of a potion. Was there anything else?"

"I don't think it was a nightwalker. I mean, it wasn't because they were moving too fast that I didn't see them. I—" She snorts suddenly. "Ugh. How tired am I to think they might have been invisible?"

Regina stiffens, overcome by a memory from her childhood when she'd been curious about what her mother does when she disappeared each afternoon. She'd forfeited a riding lesson to find out and snuck into the house to find her mother hunched over, empty vials strew across the table.

She remembers watching her mother lift a clear blue vial. The smile she wore had given Regina nightmares for weeks on end, but it was nothing compared to what she'd seen when her mother drank the potion. One minute Cora was there, and the next she'd vanished as though she'd been no more than a hallucination.

Emerging from the memory, she inhales deeply and gives a full-bodied shudder. She assumed her mother had done it to spy on her more easily and she'd run out of the house and back to the stables as fast as her feet could carry her.

Her mother is dead, but perhaps…

Just as she'd taught Henry, perhaps her mother taught someone else.

 

* * *

 

 

Like all things pertaining to her mate, Emma senses something is wrong the moment Regina storms into the dining hall. As Regina places Henry's dinner in front of him with a kiss to his forehead, she straightens and Emma's gaze narrows as their eyes meet.

Understanding the quiet demand, she rises slowly as Regina turns her attention to the rest of room and informs them all there is more food should they wish to get off their backsides and get it themselves. When she then pivots on her heel and exits the hall, Emma follows without word, waiting until they're a fair distance from the others before she reaches out and stops her with a hand on her shoulder.

Regina shrugs her off but starts to explain what Red had told her, leading the way through the palace and out into the courtyard. Emma listens carefully, her frown deepening the more she hears.

"I'm sorry," she says just as Regina concludes that her mother might have taught someone before she died. "You think your mother taught someone how to make an invisibility potion, and that someone is now wandering the palace grounds, somehow having gotten through the wards you assured me would keep us safe?"

A strangled sound that could have been a scream sticks in Regina's throat as she whirls to face her with a glare. "Are you seriously blaming me for this?"

Emma raises her hands and takes a subtle step back. She can see how her words might have been construed as such. "No," she replies, slowly lowering her arms. "I'm wondering out loud how someone might have gotten through your wards without you knowing because if that's an actual possibility, then we have more than just one invisible person to--."

Her eyes widen as she recalls bumping into someone earlier that afternoon. "Fuck."

The glare softens and Regina looks at her with a frown. "What?"

She curses again. "I thought I was just tired," she growls, pinching the bridge of her nose. She sighs and explains, "I collided with someone this afternoon before I called you into the throne room. I thought I was imagining things and needed to sleep— it made more fucking sense than invisible people."

Regina snorts. Emma's head snaps up as she drawls, "You're a nightwalker who doesn't need sleep, and being tired made more sense to you than magic?"

Emma glares at her but the growing smile on Regina's lips has her deflating long before she can work up enough anger to snap at her. She groans, tempted to bang her head against something as she settles for glaring down at the ground instead.

With another snort, Regina walks over to her and grabs her face in both hands, tilting her head up. "Fret not, my love. We're going to find this invisible person, and when we do, you can beat them until they tell us everything." Stifling a smile, Emma bites her lip as Regina grins knowingly an adds, "I'll even hold them still for you."

Hoping Red will be able to recognize the scent if she can find it again, Regina summons her down to the courtyard a few minutes later along with Michael and the four of them set off towards the perimeter where she'd set her wards all those years ago.

The wolves lead while she and Emma follow at a slight distance in order to dampen their own scents from interfering. They speak little, their arms linked, Regina's head on Emma's shoulder as they stroll along the dirt path that extends from the village to the surrounding forest.

Every so often Red will pause, listening and sniffing the air. They're roughly an hour into the search when Michael stops and starts to growl lowly, Red not too far behind.

Coming between them, Emma and Regina reach down, fingers gathering in the scruff of their necks as they open their minds to the wolves.

_Light._

Emma is about to ask Michael where when she sees it from the corner of her eye. She turns to try and make it out when Regina whispers, "Fire?"

She nods, having come to the same conclusion a split-second before she asked. "Campfire," she murmurs, wondering how she hadn't seen it sooner.

The answer comes not a moment later when the light suddenly dies, returning the forest to its surrounding darkness.

"This doesn't feel good."

 _Wolf_.

Emma blinks down at Michael. "Wolf? The brethren?"

_Just one._

She frowns. "What was with the light?"

_Probably hungry. Might be Damien._

The name rings a bell but she gives up trying to place it and asks, "Which one was he?"

_Randall's._

Her upper lip curls, the name pulling a snarl from her throat.

_Hurt him?_

"Yes," she hisses, releasing her grip on his neck. Permission granted, Michael sprints for where the light had been as she straightens. "Red. Go."

When Red obeys, Regina stumbles, startled as she's forced to let go, and Emma grips her arm more tightly. She murmurs an apology, genuinely contrite.

"So much for being my wolf," Regina mutters as she rights herself.

"She can't help it. She fears me," Emma explains, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek. "She'll grow out of it eventually. You're both still learning."

Regina huffs but chooses to let it go as she returns her head to Emma's shoulder and asks, "What was that about?"

"Michael said it's a wolf."

"And?" she prompts when she's offered nothing more.

Emma sighs. "And the man he guards isn't one I'm too fond of."

"This wouldn't happen to be the one who tried to mind control you, would it?" Her gaze snaps sharply to Regina in surprise. Regina feigns interest in something beyond the trees as she says, "Your father told me."

She rolls her eyes, grunting as she starts them moving forward again. Had she known everyone in her family would be such uncontrollable gossips, she'd have wished for less of them when she was younger.

"He took interest in me, then took offense when I told him my dick was bigger than his."

Regina chuckles. "Victor said you attacked him."

"I don't take kindly to suggestion."

She stiffens then, the words barely more than a whisper when she says, "I'm sorry."

Not needing to ask, Emma shrugs. "You didn't know what you were doing," she reasons. "Besides, I like your suggestions and you don't repulse me."

"Still—"

"I was willing from the start," she interrupts. Regina glances up at her, the look one of disbelief. "It's true. I broke out of your control before you whisked me away. I let you drink from me and then I let you fuck me in possibly the filthiest place I've ever had sex. If I was upset at any point, none of that would've happened."

Feeling Regina relax against her, she smiles just as Michael's voice enters her head.

_He was making another potion. You guys might wanna hurry up,_

Sighing, she rests her cheek against the top of Regina's head and thinks, _why?_

_I kinda took his arm off and he's bleeding out?_

"Fucking hell."


End file.
